Fallen Children Book I: Legacy of Ruin
by Teano
Summary: Shortly after the events of the Cataclysm, the Night Elves of Kalimdor once again see their homeland threatened by ancient enemies and former allies alike. However, the Horde encroaching upon their lands too has old enemies of their own that have yet to re-emerge...
1. Prologue: Hunter and Prey

1. Hunter and Prey

The monotone beating of the axes resounded through the woods. Elduin could hear it well. The sounds of steel on bark and splintering wood seemed to enter his ears and seep through to his inner being. He endured it like physical pain, like the axes were striking into him instead. The Greenskins who had killed Cenarius, they still had the audacity to come into their woods and cause even more mayhem. Elduin slowly gnashed his teeth and the grip on his staff tightened. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable. The druid's amber eyes searched the trees and he tried to concentrate on something different than the woodcutting Orcs in the distance. He failed.

Elduin experienced a seldom loss of patience. It was an uncommon experience to lose one's patience for a timeless being like him, but ever since the death of Cenarius, this had occurred more and more. Where in Elune's name was Ishrien? The renegade sentinel was supposed to have returned by now. She was one of his best. The girl was headstrong and sometimes stubborn, but nevertheless resourceful and reliable. He just hoped he hadn't lost her like he had lost so many others already. The numbers of his followers were dwindling, and they had few allies left.

The druid fought to keep his anger under control, and failed. Why? Why had his own people condemned him? For the survival of the race, the druid and his scarce followers had embraced darker powers, powers that had made their way back to Azeroth together with the Burning Legion. If their enemies had access to such powers, why would they have to hesitate to use them against them, when the power was in reach? The survival of the race was at stake.

Elduin remembered the discussions he had held with the inhabitants of his hometown, the one he had abandoned. 'They are demon-spawned wretches and must be purged!' he had bellowed. 'They stood with us against the Legion and did not bow to them willingly' the reply had come. 'The curse is in their blood, the rage is. Even with the Pit Lord Mannoroth dead, the Orcs are nothing like the peaceful shamanistic people they claimed they once were. If allowed to live, they will become a threat to all we hold dear. We must claim all the possible power we can and eradicate their kind before we suffer the fate we wish upon them' Elduin had pleaded with them, but it had fallen on deaf ears like so many times before. His people were always much too confident, too trusting in a good outcome. Elduin dared not say it out loud, but his kind was well on the way to becoming complacent. Their last words still rang in his ears. 'If you continue on this path you desire, you will eventually become as lost in rage like so many of the forest creatures have. Our traditional strength has withstood countless challenges for thousands of years. It will not fail us now.'

So outraged he had been, that Elduin had turned his back on his fellow Night Elves and announced with a final snarl: 'I will not let ignorance guide my path, or see it allowed to lead my people to ruin. Anyone who has the will to truly save this land, follow me.' Fewer than he had hoped had followed, even though more had joined him recently. Many of those had already fallen. Elduin suppressed the idea that he longed back to those days, to his village. No, he didn't long for them at all. He did what had to be done, why could they not see? The new Warchief, that senseless brute, should be more than proof enough. If half the things the eyes and ears in Elduin's service told him were true, his worst fears were indeed beginning to take shape.

A faint rustling only his Elven ears could catch broke the druid out of his worried thoughts. His powerful hand momentarily gripped more tightly around his staff just to be on the safe side, but it was indeed the face he been expecting to see that appeared before him. Ishrien never wasted a lot of time with formalities. Her attitude almost reminded him a little of the humans he had seen her take so much interest in, in a way. Elduin eyed her up briefly. Although Ishrien had no doubt made haste, she showed no signs of fatigue. 'The Corruption' his Night Elf brethren called it, but she had embraced the New Ways as he had and there were no signs about her that would identify her as being 'corrupted', not one. Elduin's own skin was lined with faint black streaks that ran where his veins sat under his skin, but then he was more reliant on his magic than any of his followers, and that slight change to his body still did not make him a Satyr. He would never be truly corrupted as long as he upheld his righteous cause, the druid told himself.

"Shan'do Elduin, it is as we feared" the girl announced worriedly. "The Orcs have set up another lumber camp. They have constructed guard towers and set many sentry wards to guard against our approach. It was difficult to get close to them."

That came as no surprise, but it still displeased Elduin. He and his followers were among the few who had reached for darker powers, but they were by far not the only ones willing to protect their homeland or destroy the murderers of Cenarius. It was natural for the Orcs to grow more cautious. His question was simple and brisk: "How many?"

"Too many, Shan'do. They have brought over a hundred of their ilk, and many of them are warriors."

A hundred Elduin thought, his scarred face remaining expressionless. Against so many his small band of renegades meant little. The lowly peons meant little to him, but if they were to assault a fortified camp, even their spears could prove troublesome if they chose to hide in their burrows. They could always try to pick them off one by one, but that would never be sufficient to do away with the entire camp.

"Too many" Elduin repeated, be it grudgingly. The druid muttered the words again and again as he sunk in thought. It was too late to turn back now. His people would never accept him again. They'd have to carry on with what they were doing or die trying. If Ishrien perceived his doubt, she ignored it.

"Too many, or rather, too few of us. We can smash their nests as many times as we'd like, Shan'do, but we will never be rid of them as long as we don't break them at the core" Ishrien said with the calm and cool, but uncalculated confidence only youth could provide.  
That caught Elduin's attention. It was a mad thought, but somehow still appealing. To sneak deeply into Orc territory and destroy the Warchief himself or perhaps devise a grand plot to decimate the Orc population... It seemed like it was worth the risk. One final blaze of glory to prove he was right, be it with a small chance of success, could mean he hadn't thrown the purpose of his life away in the end. It sounded like a death sentence, but if he died as a martyr while achieving something grand, perhaps others would follow in his footsteps.

"Are you suggesting that we should fight the Orcs on their own ground, child?" When he said it out loud, the plan suddenly didn't seem as brilliant anymore.  
The smile on Ishrien's beautiful face was as faint as a winter sun.  
"There are others" she said with a mysterious twinkle in her eye.  
"The Horde has many enemies, none of which will destroy them at their core any time soon if my knowledge is still reliable."  
Ishrien was as playful as a dryad. He could tell she was hiding something.  
"Not all of their enemies are currently committed to fighting the Horde. There are others, like the Humans who encroached upon their lands when their nation had only just emerged. The Kul'Tiras fleet."  
The eyes and ears in Elduin's service had told him enough about those humans.  
"Not committed? Your optimism is commendable child, but this is sheer folly. The marines you speak of were crushed, destroyed by the savages. What little remains of them is barely a threat to the Orcs at all. I hardly understand why they would still oppose them."  
"Duty" Ishrien said, dead serious. "Honour. The same reasons I follow you."

That left Elduin momentarily speechless, but his young consort waited patiently for his reply. She knew him well enough to realize she had caught his interest, he could tell, but nevertheless Elduin was not yet convinced. Far from it, even.

"They're likely all dead by now. What good would such a small force do us?"  
"There are more" Ishrien continued confidently. "When you sent me to spy on the orcs, I passed by their citadel. It seemed unwise to approach them directly, so I listened in on them to learn anything about the orcs in the area." She smiled briefly. "I have to admit, the contents of their kitchens were another source of my interest and presence." A guilty look crossed her face. The girl was an accomplished thief, Elduin could tell from experience. "It never crossed my mind to share this with you as it seemed insignificant and nothing of our concern, but now that the odds are stacked against us as they are..."  
"More?" Elduin repeated the word distrustfully before his young consort could continue. The idea of finding an unoccupied army of men who hated the Orcs would be like finding a village of Night Elves that would suddenly agree to follow his ways and become devoted to his cause in the middle of the woods: highly unlikely, and too good to be true: something he dreamed of, but never truly held possible.  
The youngest Night Elf was untouched by his doubt. She nodded.  
"More. Their men spoke of one 'Lieutenant Alverold', whose return they awaited. Apparently this... Lieutenant had been sent to map Kalimdor's shores, while the Grand Admiral, Proudmoore, they called him, led the assault against the Orcs. They contemplated sending someone after the expedition to inform him of the fate that had befallen their Admiral and themselves. The marines seemed convicted this Alverold would turn his sails to combat the orcs if he learned of this. One of the men contemplated that it wouldn't be possible to find them or even gain on them... lest you had wings" Ishrien said, and her eyes sparkled once more.

It was obvious for Elduin what his audacious consort was hinting at. He could soar above the clouds and travel safely and with a good chance of tracing this lost fleet, but none of his followers would be able to come along. Besides, it felt like running away, something he hadn't ever done in all his life. The Druid shook his head.  
"I cannot abandon my task here, Ishrien. You are in enough danger as you are. Without me, you'll surely perish."  
"Your task no longer lies here, Elduin. It is our task to inflict as much damage as we can upon the Horde, through any means we may seek to seize. You are the only one of us who can do this, Shan'do. You may yet exact the vengeance you desire, even if it should happen through others."  
"So I am to scour the seas for a supposed fleet of human ships and convince them to turn their sails to destroy the Horde... And abandon you all to your fates?"  
Ishrien realized full well what would become of Elduin's tiny band of renegades without the Druid to guide them. She was strangely calm.  
"All Night Elves will suffer the same fate if the Horde is allowed to march upon us unchecked" she said.

Elduin weighed up his options. He had already given up so much in his quest to destroy the Orcs… but could he give up this, his warband, the last family he had? A sudden sound off in the distance, in the direction of the lumber camp, broke him out of his thoughts. Ishrien had noticed it as well.

"Fandu-dath belore?" the girl called softly. She kept her voice low and soft, anything but Elven ears would certainly not pick up its' sound, and definitely not the wretched Greenskins. A party of Night Elves would not mean a guarantee of safety for the renegades they were, but not a certainty of hostility like the Orcs either. Suddenly they heard raw voices and the splintering of wood further up. The Orcs were not masking their approach. Once they would perhaps have sent out cautious dark trolls in an attempt to surprise them, but no more. Those times were gone. The Horde had changed, and not for the better. What they had given up in caution they had made up in brutality, Elduin figured.  
Dogs tend to take a likeness to their master the Druid thought bitterly as he envisioned a hideous image of this new Warchief, the wretched brute Garrosh, before his mind's eye.  
"Not Night Elves" he growled. "Orcs. We've been discovered."

It was not like him to let his guard down. Perhaps they had spent too much time talking. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but Ishrien's tale had captivated him more than he would admit. The raw voices quickly grew louder, closer. As he called upon his magic, Elduin became more sensitive to the magic around him, and he noticed just what had given them away. There, hidden in the undergrowth, was an Orcish sentry ward.

"Tor ilisar'thera'nal!" Elduin exclaimed, frustrated that his earlier assessment on the Horde had been proven wrong so swiftly. His anger, but most of all the purple magic blast that flew from the edge of his staff exploded the sentry ward in a million fragments without leaving even the slightest impression on the undergrowth.  
"They are coming! Bandu'thoribas!" Ishrien called, no longer bothering to constrain her beautiful voice. Even though Elduin admired the girl's zeal, he took her by the shoulder and pulled her back.  
"These are no mere scouts, surely if they already knew we were here they will be coming in greater numbers. We must run, to fight another day. Perhaps if we can lure them with us, the brutes' noise will alarm our sisters in time and allow them to set an ambush. Come!" he called, pulling the girl with him.

She sheathed her weapons and reluctantly followed, noting Elduin was not running at his fastest possible pace. As they left the small clearing, the first green brute burst from the treeline with a cracking of branches. The steel on his axe was stained with old blood. Ishrien stopped for just as long as it took for her to ascertain he could see her, and then sprinted after Elduin.

Allowing the Orcs to follow them proved to be a mistake soon. She'd already thought they had spent too much time being watched, that she'd heard footsteps all around them, but she had been too caught up in trying to convince him of her plan, and furthermore she trusted in Elduin's leadership. That, too, had been a mistake. The branches to Elduin's left suddenly shattered and out burst a warrior clad in red. On the monstrous arm that held up his axe a the silhouette of a screaming face had been tattooed in blood red ink: the sign of the Warsong clan. Elduin tried to pull his body back but his speed worked against him, and his staff would be of little use in such close quarters. As the Orc brought his axe down one of Ishrien's throwing knives disappeared in his eye socket, the force with which it penetrated his skull and brain knocking his body backwards. The blade of his axe missed Elduin by a shred.

"Make haste! They've nearly surrounded us!" Ishrien shouted without pause as she sped past the druid she admired, her senses driven to their maximum. She could hear the stomping of oversized feet, the snapping of branches and the grunting of Orcs all around them.  
They were close. Two to her left, one to her right, speeding through the wilderness in an effort to keep up with her. As they ran the brutes made no effort to avoid the foliage that got in their way, smashing through everything that got in their path and apparently doing as much damage to the woods as they could. They growled at her and shouted obscenities as they dragged their axes across tree trunks and cut apart branches, leaving deep carvings. It was almost as if the warriors were trying to taunt her into standing her ground and facing them. Ishrien knew better than to give in to the brutes. If she made it in range of their crude, vengeful axes, she knew she would be doomed. But that didn't mean they were just going to get away.

"Taste the wrath of the Goddess, wretches!" Ishrien exclaimed as she threw another knife to the one at her left, piercing the Orc's gut. He crashed down heavily even though he was not dead yet, but another Grunt quickly trampled over his comrade in his haste, burying his comrade's face in the ground. The sheer bloodlust in the creature's eyes was terrifying to behold even to her, who had faced so many of the creatures already. Their bloodlust enhanced their ability to run, and the Orcs followed both of the swift Night Elves for several minutes in a haphazard chase in which both parties had to watch out not to trip or slam into a tree. The Warsong Orcs did not gain ground, but neither did they lose any. Ishrien realized that surely the slowest must have already fallen behind at this point, but there were still more than they could handle in a stand-up fight.

My sisters, where are you? Ishrien thought as the lead orc burst from the treeline with bared teeth, swinging his massive axe at her midsection. Ishrien caught an overhanging branch with both hands and flipped over him, her heels hitting into his back and knocking him down as she swung around. She wasted no time and swung around again, letting go at the exact right moment. For a few brief moments the young Night Elf could imagine how Elduin must have felt every time his wings had carried through the clouds. She sailed through the air gracefully, and landed with an equal amount of control. Ishrien allowed herself a smile as a Storm Crow passed over her shoulder and she saw how much her jump had put the Orcs behind her. Without hesitation she ran on and on, following the Storm Crow flying before her. By the way Elduin had dropped his pace she knew the Druid was capable of far greater speeds in his animal form she could tell he was still hanging on to his original plan. Whether that was wise was beyond her, but there was no time to discuss it with Elduin right now.  
The decision turned out to be a mistake, again.

"Merciful Goddess" Ishrien whispered as they came upon the camp Elduin and his followers had established mere days ago. Bodies of Greenskins and Night Elves alike were strewn across the area, and the fallen leaves that covered forest ground were wet and slick with blood. Elduin had arrived slightly before her. He was crouched in his humanoid form, and his head hung low. The Druid seemed a broken man.

They had noticed the stench of death before they reached the site, but only realized it now. So fixed on their pursuers they had been, that neither of them had even wanted to consider that this could have happened to their comrades in arms while they were out. The Greenskins were still close behind them, and more burst from the shambling tents.

It's a trap! the girl realized with a shock.

"COME!" Ishrien called instinctively, driving her sadness and despair to the back of her mind and pulling Elduin up by his arm. Adrenaline guided her actions and gave her the strength she needed: Elduin had never felt this light. Against his will, it seemed, the Druid followed after her.  
"We still have a chance! The Fallen Ancient!" she called at Elduin, hoping her zeal would invigorate him, but he did not answer. The way he looked, she was already glad he didn't stop to wage a futile battle, or drop to the ground and deliver himself to the Orcs.  
The Fallen Ancient was just that: the remains of an Ancient who had not survived the Warsong Clan's first passing into Night Elf territory. The greater part of the creature had been cut apart and taken by the Warsong to resume its life in the shape of an Orcish settlement, but part of it still remained. Even in death, the skeleton - if one could call it that - of the ancient still served the Night Elves. He had collapsed against the cliffside behind him, right next to a majestic waterfall. The remains of his body could serve a ladder for the more agile creatures of the forest, providing easy access to the plateau above. The Night Elves were among those creatures. Most Orcs however, were not.

Arriving upon the small clearing on which the Fallen Ancient stood, Ishrien's heart immediately sunk to her stomach. Their path of escape had been cut off. The remains of the ancient had been cut to bits as a final insult to its memory, or rather a smart tactical decision by the Orcs. Naturally. She stole a sideways glance at her druid. The look in Elduin's eyes told her he felt the same despair she did. Death was not something to be feared, but it was different to those whose task was so far from being completed. They ran until they reached the stone and then stopped as if they had to get this close to believe the ancient was truly gone, the both of them sick of running. The current cut off their escape path to the left, and the grunting and pounding of feet told them the Orcs had been smart enough to flank their escape route rather than go straight after them. They stopped dead in their tracks, ready for the end.  
Even though they managed to kill Cenarius we still underestimated the Warsong, and it seems we are going to pay for it with our lives Ishrien thought as she reached for her knives, the war cries behind her terrifyingly close now.

The young Night Elf turned, determined to give the first orc to appear a face full of throwing knives. Her feelings were too turbulent, and the skilled warrior caught the dagger on his bracer easily, drawing back a small axe for a throw without slowing his advance. The subsequent blast of magic however, did not leave anything but his smouldering lower body standing: this time his armour had been shred like it had been made of paper. Ishrien's breathe caught as Elduin stepped in front of her, amazed at the vigour and symbol of power he had once again become.

"Come you wretches! Even being struck down by the lethal grace of a Druid of the Talon is too good a fate for your kind, but I shall deliver it to you nonetheless!" he defied his adversaries, even as the number of green-skinned shapes breaking unto the clearing made clear there was no hope for either of them.  
Two more Orcs charged and got dangerously close, but they were caught in a swirling cyclone that pulled them up into the air and then spat them out, sending the both of them hurtling into the trees. The cyclone stopped the others briefly, but the Orcs were clearly not afraid of the druid, charging forward again the moment it subsided. Ishrien's last knife was wasted as the Orc who caught it in his shoulder only stopped to pull it out.

When all hope seemed lost Ishrien suddenly felt the familiar feeling of the moonlight kissing her skin. She looked up to see the eternal friend of any Night Elf to walk Azeroth appearing in the sky, and her despair suddenly felt less grave.

"Shan'do!" the girl shouted as she moved to block the Druid from the approaching warriors. Elduin's staff was pointed at them threatheningly, the tip bristling with magic. Having witnessed what had happened to their comrades, the Orcs chose to spread out, encircling the Night Elves further and looking to take the Druid out by surprise as Elduin's staff kept switching targets, but every time he pointed it at another Orc the others would draw one step closer. Ishrien saw the conviction in his eyes and in that instance realized it would be difficult to make him back off from this fight.

"Elduin!" she called. "Remember what I said! What we talked about! Your destiny! Your duty! Remember! Do it! Do it for all of us! For all those who fell, and those who are to fall! For all those who have seen their fates splintered by the fury of the Horde! Ash Karath!"  
Ishrien perceived a change in her teacher. It happened slowly, but it was there. The druid remembered, she could tell he did. She knew him so well, he, who had been willing to throw away everything from the sanctuary of his village, his age-old friends and his own personal safety to perhaps his very own soul, all in order to avenge Cenarius and oppose the Horde. Then with a flash he was gone and moments later a Storm Crow flew vertically up along the cliffside to safety, making an escape that was impossible for one such as her. Ishrien closed her eyes, content in knowing her task was done. With the threat of the staff gone, the grunts roared and charged forward, content to take out their frustration of losing the druid on his consort. The brutes did not concern Ishrien. Her final thought before it happened went out to Elune.


	2. Shattered

The _Orcduster's_ tattered sail waved weakly in the soft sea breeze. The previously bright yellow anchor emblem emblazoned on the torn dark green canvas of the sail had gone dull. Stained. It was a sight unfit to represent the proud nation of Kul Tiras. The sorry state of the sail and the battleship it belonged to mirrored the condition of its crew well. The men were working to get supplies from the ship ashore, but there was no true determination in their actions, no joy. They toiled in silence.

Weeks spent drifting aimlessly at sea had made the men weary.

A large part of the crew was already ashore, struggling with crates and supplies and suffering tremendously under the unforgiving sun that hung ominously above this grim desert land they had fallen upon. The men were working hard to get the camp set up, because they wouldn't be going anywhere soon. The vicious storm that had hit the _Orcduster_ what seemed like years ago to most of them had left its mark on the ship. The hull was cracked in several places and the sight of splintered wood was no rarity along both the length of the hull as the ship's railing and deck. The way the ship looked, it seemed a miracle it was still afloat. The crew had been very lucky to survive the cataclysmic storm, and they had been even more lucky to have reached land on their steerless ship. Still, there lived little relief or joy among the Kul Tiran ranks, and it showed.

It showed on the faces of the men slaving away in the sand just as well as it did with those standing guard on the dunes that bordered what was to become the perimeter of the base camp they were setting up. Llorrin's eyes drifted away from his task boredly. There were few assignments he hated more than guard duty: it was menial and degrading. It was bad enough that he could hear the moans of the wounded and dying coming from the ship even here, but not having anything to do made things even worse.

The sight of the _Orcduster_ only deteriorated his mood further. The ship he had begun to call home during the long years he had spent at sea seemed no more than a shell of its former self. Even at this distance he saw men swarming over the deck and masts like ants, eager to make repairs. He hoped the hold contained enough spare wood for them to make the ship seaworthy again soon.

_The damage could've been worse_ Llorrin tried to tell himself for the hundredth time, and then for the thousandth time he remembered himself how lucky he was to still be alive. The storm that had hit them mere weeks ago was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The expedition had been shattered, blown to the four winds. No doubt for every comrade he had seen die many more had perished away from his eyes. Unable to bear the sight of the ravaged battleship any longer, the young marine tore his gaze away.

His eyes could look out far across the desert landscape they had fallen upon, further than he would ever admit to his comrades in arms. Llorrin's senses were sharper and contrary to his fellow marines he carried a stronger attunement to magic. His instinct had strengthened his conviction that this had been no natural storm, but his comrades were reluctant to speak of such things, and who could blame them? They had enough to worry about already. Nor would Llorrin reveal any of those qualities. No matter how great his craving to stand out from the pack, this would probably do very little for him, in fact, it often disturbed himself a little.

Though he'd never witnessed even anything remotely comparable to this strange land before, parts of it still seemed unnatural to Llorrin. The slowly subsiding pools that had been torn into the desert's surface did not seem to have been naturally formed to him. A result of the same upheaval that had caused the storm, perhaps? He looked down. The very dune upon which he stood itself was different from many of the other, more natural-looking ones stretched out across the wastes. He was getting more and more convinced the conclusion he'd reached about the cause of the storm had been correct. Though the _Orcduster's_ crew went about their work rather quietly, the sounds their presence generated were the only things Llorrin heard apart from the gentle splashing of the waves hitting the beach. Llorrin tried to concentrate on the rest of the land, to try and catch some sounds made by any possible animals that might roam the sands outside, but the wastes were quiet. Eerily quiet.

_It's likely nothing would choose to live in this forgotten waste_ he decided. _Yet here we are._

He felt his fist beginning to clench, slowly. Six years. Six years of getting lost at sea, charting and mapping unknown, often uninhabited isles. Gathering resources, building settlements, looking for missing crew members, repairing boats... he might as well have been a peasant instead of a warrior. Six years without any true conflict, without any true action. The Murlocs and Naga as well as other indigenous creatures they had faced on their journey had sometimes pressed them hard, but they were not the enemy he had wished to fight. He sighed. Six years spent away from where he needed to be.

What made it even worse, was that he didn't believe they were going to make it back any time soon.

Llorrin remembered how elated he had been when the fleet had first set sail from Kul Tiras to pursue the Horde to Kalimdor, shortly after Lordaeron and so many other realms of the Alliance had fallen to the Undead on the mainland. The Undead Scourge had quickly proven to be an invincible enemy, and after he'd witnessed what they had done to the Kul Tiran fleet, Llorrin had decided he never wanted to fight them again. The Horde was another question. His elation about the prospect of finally getting to fight the brutes had quickly been ground to dust, on that day, when Captain Adane had appeared on the deck to announce they had been given new orders. The captain hadn't even spared his crew a look, he had read the orders that had so far condemned Llorrin and the rest of the expedition to a life without glory in an emotionless voice, and then left again. Llorrin had rarely been so angry in his entire life. He remembered every single word.

_"These orders come straight from Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore himself!"_ Captain Adane had announced, unwittingly raising the men's hopes._"Admiral Proudmoore shall lead the first landing upon the shores of Kalimdor."_

That had evoked a cheer from the men, but their exuberance had been destined to be short-lived.

_"Lieutenant Benedict will be second in command in his absence. All domestic Kul Tiras military matters will be handled by him. If Admiral Proudmoore does not send word from Tiragarde Keep within twelve months time, Lieutenant Benedict will lead the second wave to hold the location. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Alverold is being sent on an exploratory mission around the continent of Kalimdor. His forces are to complete their mission and then join our forces at Tiragarde Keep. It is anticipated that Lieutenant Alverold's mission will last quite some time. This new land seems vast and dangerous. But should any misfortune befall Admiral Proudmoore or Benedict, Alverold's troops will retake the Keep. We will send wave after wave until that stronghold is ours! Such are Admiral Proudmoore's orders. We have been commanded to join Lieutenant Alverold on his exploratory mission."_

The memory of the words pounded in Llorrin's head and gradually gave him a headache. His thoughts strayed to Daelin, and he could only wish the Admiral was well. Six years was a long time. Llorrin knew the war Admiral Proudmoore had waged upon the new Orc nation may very well have been decided in the meantime. Many captains had pleaded to Alverold that it could never have been the Admiral's intent to send so much of his fleet away for such a long time, but the man had been given full authority, and he wished to follow his orders to the letter, dismissing all complaints. Alverold was angered by anyone who would doubt Daelin's ability to defend himself. Llorrin had great faith in the Admiral himself, but that didn't mean he didn't worry.

The young marine silently wished he could have been there, at Admiral Proudmoore's side, battling the Blackbloods, rather than with this expedition, being forced to chart an unknown continent and face malignant creatures he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. The Orcs were brutal, that much was true, but nothing was more terrifying than an unknown enemy.

Llorrin realized he'd been daydreaming when a harsh and all too familiar voice snapped him out of it.

"Oi, brat! Keep yer eyes peeled! If there's anythin' in this bleedin' desert that needs killin', I want ta know before it jumps me!"

He forced a smirk on his face and made a quarter-turn to face the source of the voice. Standing at the foot of the dune was the nail in his coffin: Chuth. The man made a sport out of doubting his skill in battle, often going as far as to call him a liability to the rest of the crew. Llorrin realized how much anger he had accumulated by recalling his memories when he felt the nails of his left hand had presed into his palm, so he quickly moved the hand behind his body, out of Chuth's sight. The veteran likely didn't know how much his words often bothered Llorrin, and he didn't have to.

"You thought I wasn't paying attention? I do believe I've _just_ spotted something in need of a good ass-kicking" Llorrin said mildly.

"Ye'll need me if anythin' attacks ta camp. Ya wouldn't stand yer ground if an ant came crawlin' up ta hill."

"You're just jealous you can't stand and think at the same time" Llorrin smirked.  
Chuth raised his rifle up at him slowly.

"Ye make a nice target up there, dreamboy" he bit back.

The comment on his appearance didn't come as a surprise to Llorrin. Chuth, with his roughly shaped body, flat nose, crooked eyes and thick red hair and beard, had reason to be jealous of anyone's looks. The veteran was said to possess some Dwarf blood, and at any rate, it hadn't made him any prettier.

"As long as it's only you who's aiming at me..." Llorrin shrugged, turning his face away and focusing on his task. If it was what it took to make the man shut up, it'd be worth it. Llorrin almost sighed in relief when he heard Chuth grumbling something, spit and continue his patrol along the perimiter.

Although they'd been part of the same crew for many years, on missions Llorrin and Chuth had always been divided over separate squads for obvious reasons, which meant they had rarely fought in sight of one another. No matter what Llorrin told him about the battles he'd been in, Chuth would always say he was lying and keep claiming he wouldn't stop calling Llorrin a brat until the young marine had gained on him in years of service. Trying to explain to him why that was impossible was an insurmountable task. It was a common saying among the crew of the _Orcduster_ that Chuth knew everything about his rifle and how to make every shot count, but also knew very little else apart from that. It was either that, or Chuth's way of saying he was never going to stop doubting his experience. With him, it was hard to tell.

Llorrin was happy to be standing with his back to the men setting up the camp, because he didn't want anyone to see the scowl that had appeared on his face. While an object of his anger, Chuth, or rather, what he represented, was also an object of his fear, and it wasn't because of the rifle he always carried with him. Llorrin could scarcely imagine serving in the navy for as long as the man had while retaining such a humble role throughout his service. Despite his misgivings Chuth's words still held merit, so Llorrin minded his task, staring out across the dead land to spot any threats. It wasn't long before Chuth's voice interrupted him again.

"Brat!"

_I __**am**__ looking!_ Llorrin thought, almost getting frustrated again as he turned to face the veteran once more. His opinion on the land had meanwhile changed slightly and he'd just started drinking in the rugged beauty of the desert landscape, wondering about which miracles it held when the raw voice had snapped him out of it. When Chuth spoke it was as if the man had read his thoughts.

"Liking this land, brat? Ye may be gettin' a closer look at it. Captain Adane wants ta see ya, in a jiffy."

Llorrin's heart leapt at that notion. He quickly moved down the dune and into the camp, leaving his position with a courteous nod to the sour-looking marine that moved past him to take his place. To Llorrin's surprise Chuth started following after him. He groaned in his mind, for this could very well mean the man was going to be part of whatever it was Captain Adane had in store for him.

The crew was laboring hard all around them, and the smell of sweat was thick in the air. They pushed through scores of marines setting up tents and crewmen counting provisions, surgeons binding up wounds and sailors carrying supplies into the camp, and even men that were still in no shape to move around and had been stretched out on improvised mattresses to rest in the sun. In the middle of the hustle and bustle of the camp they found captain Adane, who kept shouting orders until Llorrin and Chuth had reached him.

If the desperate crew had one sign they could draw fresh hope from, it would have been Adane. The captain had a shaven head, meaning the bump he'd received on the side of it during the storm was entirely revealed to the world. It was large and ugly to look at, even more so because it had turned every single colour skin could ever possess. Nevertheless Adane made it seem like it wasn't even there. The captain had not even gone to see the healers. There were other men with more urgent injuries, he claimed.

His armour, a combination of green and yellow, was another indication of how Adane didn't allow himself much frivolities. The steel was dull, dented and scratched in many places, but still strong enough to serve its purpose. The anchor sigil on _his_ tabard, at least, still shone as bright as the sun.

Captain Adane wore a three days old beard along with a perpetual grim expression on his face that didn't change when he spotted Llorrin and Chuth moving towards him, but Llorrin didn't let it frighten him. Adane was as close a thing to a father as he had ever had and the man who had saved his life, so long ago that Llorrin didn't carry even one recollection of the event. He'd even been allowed to grow up under the captain's care, for which he was grateful. Llorrin only wished the captain hadn't always kept that much distance in between them. He regarded Adane as his father, but doubted if the captain _truly_ saw him as his son.

Even as he drew closer to Adane Llorrin could feel the distance between them growing, especially when the captain crossed his arms and refused to make eye contact. He was usually decent enough towards Llorrin to retain his respect, but nevertheless the young marine could tell something appeared to be gnawing at his captain every time he walked into his sights. Nevertheless, whatever it was Adane had planned for him, Llorrin was determined to see it as the next chance to make sure he'd get noticed by his captain. His efforts were rarely enough, but that was no reason to quit.

Llorrin felt his heart beating heavily in his chest, wondering what his mission would be. Captain Adane usually handed the tasks most others would find the least desirable to him. Llorrin wasn't sure if Adane knew, but he didn't mind. He relished the challenge.

"Llorrin, Chuth, it's about time" the captain acknowledged the both of them with the voice of a leader addressing his subordinates, not a father speaking to his son.

"Being hit by a storm is no excuse for ignoring orders" he announced gravely. "We are continuing the mission to chart Kalimdor no matter what."

Llorrin bit his tongue as he tried hard not to groan.

"Carekon thinks he's already determined our current location, but other than that he knows as much as we do about this desert. Nothing. Our first priority is to determine what's out there. You might find traces of the rest of the fleet nearby, other ships that got smashed inland: survivors. We're fortifying this position to create a safe haven for the navy to regroup in. I want you to bring any men you can find here. We have very few horses left and chances are we'll have to resort to eating most of them soon, so you'll be going on foot."

Lorrin raised his eyebrows.

"Just the two of us, captain?" he inquired.

Adane looked at him sternly.

"No. I've sent search parties in every direction. Master Carekon and Lady Irewyth await you to the North of the camp. You'll be joining her group. Irewyth demanded I send her two more men. You had better not disappoint her."

Llorrin was far from unhappy with the appointment, but he still felt kind of confused. It was a strange decision for Adane to put him and Chuth on the same team, as it was something he'd always avoided in the past. Llorrin glanced at Chuth, who seemed about as happy with the idea as he was. Why change now?

"Who will lead us, captain?" Chuth asked with a suspicious glance in Llorrin's direction. Contrary to Llorrin, Chuth often suspected Captain Adane of favoritism towards the lad and often voiced these concerns as well, especially when drunk. Of course, he always retained the clarity of mind to keep these claims for times when the captain was out of earshot. The captain's stare made clear he had little time for questions.

"I put Carekon in charge of this mission, although that is only a formality based on status" Adane stated, leaving it for them to figure out by themselves who would be the _factual_ leader of the search party. Llorrin already had a pretty good idea about that.

"He is also tasked with charting the land. That however, doesn't concern me much."  
Llorrin made sure not to smile too much. Though it didn't help much, it was still good to know Adane doubted the point of this expedition as much as he did.

"We'll be staying in this spot for some time, but I don't want the time we spend here to go to waste. We need to see if there's any natural resources in this desert we can exploit. We'll also have to know if there's anything here that wants to kill us, civilizations or otherwise."

_Orcs_ Llorrin thought immediately. For all they knew the Horde could have spread all over the continent in the time they'd been gone.

"Gweann will be accompanying you as well. If half the things he tells me are true, he's explored areas much similar to this one, and worse. He'll be your guide."

"That Half-Elf nutcase?" Chuth blurted out. His mouth usually worked faster than his brain. The veteran sailor wasn't particularly fond of Half-Elves, and seemed even less fond of the prospect of having to follow one's guidance. Adane's gaze hardened.

"The storm has left me without any officers to spare. I will not have my orders questioned, _sniper_. I will have to appoint new officers soon. If you want to increase your chances of me considering you for command, you had better remember that, and that's something that goes for the both of you. Is that clear?!" Adane exclaimed, his eyes as hard and dark as onyx.

"Sir yes sir!" Llorrin and Chuth spoke together. Acknowledging orders was about the only possible time in which the two of them looked like they were agreeing on something.  
"Then go. Out of the many things we have too little of, time is probably the most scarce. This expedition has taken much too long already."

Llorrin and Chuth didn't need to hear that twice. One of the few opinions they shared was that they both preferred action to menial tasks.

"Seems to me like the captain would also rather be out there with the Admiral, swatting Orcs" Llorrin remarked with a slight smirk.

"I could do with a few of dem Greenskins before breakfast meself" Chuth grunted in response, brandishing his scoped musket. It was as close to a normal conversation the two of them could ever hope to get, so Llorrin didn't try his luck and decided not to push it any further.

As they moved past the perimiter they saw men beginning to work on a palisade. It filled him with a sense of security. They found their companions a bit North of the camp, as Adane had told them. The aged chaplain, Carekon, was already busy charting the immediate area around the party and didn't seem to notice their arrival. He was flanked by two guards: armour-plastered marines that were going to suffer a lot in the desert sun, Llorrin could tell. When he saw their strained eyes Llorrin was grateful of his lack of armour and the much lighter uniform he was wearing. The footmen's helmets made them faceless, so Llorrin couldn't tell whether he knew the men or not.

The figure that was the furthest away from the small band and not even dressed in the dark green and yellow attire of Kul Tiras was undoubtedly Gweannn, but the one who really caught Llorrin's interest was right in front of him: the beautiful Irewyth.

Llorrin held no illusions: while Carekon carried the highest rank and Gweannn had received the greatest deal of responsibility, one look at her face was enough to tell Irewyth had her own thoughts on how to approach this mission, and was not going to bite her tongue. The young woman's character and powers had already given her a considerable status among Adane's crew, and since the marines had begun to whisper her powers over water were the only reason the storm hadn't consumed the ship completely, she had gained even more respect.

Irewyth had started out fair-skinned when Proudmoore's fleet had first set sail from Kul Tiras, but many days spent on deck had turned her it a shade closer to the chocolate brown colour of her shoulder-length hair. Her blue eyes were like paintings of the sea itself: calm the one moment, and turbulent the next. Irewyth was still young for someone of her skill, and only a little shorter than Llorrin, but she carried herself with more confidence than any of the men gathered. Unlike the footmen, Irewyth was better dressed for the weather. Her outfit, a combination of silk and leather, left her upper arms and a small part of her thighs revealed, allowing her skin to breathe. Her green clothes were decorated with intricate yellow patterns, while the embroidered chapeau and the leather shoulder pads she wore gave her a majestic appearance. A blue crystal brimmed at the edge of her staff, which was held loosely in her hands, but ready to be used at the slightest sign of danger.

Llorrin wondered if she would remember his name. He'd had some friendly encounters with Irewyth before, but he figured she must catch a lot of attention from everyone because of the way she was dressed, and also happened to be the only woman on board the _Orcduster_.

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, milady" Llorrin said politely as he approached her, which earned him another distrustful glance from Chuth, who kept his rifle in between him and Irewyth like a ward. Chuth had been one of the few men who had whispered it was bad fortune to bring a woman on board, and that she was probably the cause of the storm. Maybe that's why Irewyth barely seemed to be taking notice of his presence.

"Can the formalities, Llorrin, we're not in sight of your captain. It's _him_ you'll need to impress if you want that promotion" she answered the young marine dryly.

"I wasn't-"

Irewyth ignored him and brought a hand to her mouth, turning in the direction of Gweann, who had already taken the time to explore their immediate area.

"Gweann! They're here! We should get going!" she shouted with a voice like a raging sea. It was the first thing since Llorrin and Chuth had arrived that actually made Master Carekon look up from his work, if only for a moment. Wheann returned quickly, apparently eager to start the mission and prove himself. After all, his skills were of little use at sea and it had been a while since the crew had last embarked on land.

"Captain Adane has asked us to stick close to the shore, as that's where we will most likely find survivors. He expects us back by nightfall" the Half-Elf explained.

"_By nightfall?_" Llorrin repeated. "That's not a lot of time to do anything."

"I estimate that he doesn't want to send people out for extended periods of time until we've fortified our position" Irewyth added with the faintest of smiles. There was no real way to tell for sure, but Llorrin had a feeling she was mocking him.  
Gweann nodded to show he agreed with her assessment.

"I'm urging everyone to watch their step. We don't know what awaits us out there" he  
advised.

Chuth lifted his scoped rifle up high. "Let's find out then."

The treck through the desert was as hard on the footmen as Llorrin had thought it would be. The light ocean breeze was refreshing to most, but did little to cool off the armoured men. What he _hadn't_ estimated was that _he_ would suffer a lot under the heat as well. They'd only been going for about an hour or two, but the young marine already felt he was going to have trouble holding up if the rest of the day was going to carry on like this. The desolate, barren land provided almost no shade at all. This made even the many stops and pauses they had to make to allow Carekon to study something closely or catch up on the map he was drawing unbearable. He contemplated running into the sea briefly to cool off, but that didn't seem like something he could just do. To Lorrin's surprise the old chaplain and Irewyth seemed almost untouched by the heat. They were well ahead of him and Chuth. No doubt some form of magic was keeping them going.

"Parlor tricks, and they're still unwilling to share" Llorrin said grudgingly.

"What? Some sun too much for ya, kid? 'fraid yer pretty skin is gonna come off?" Chuth grunted, but Llorrin made no comment.

One look at the man told him Chuth was suffering as much as he was if not more. The way Chuth kept constantly putting his hood on and off to try and figure out what was the best way to combat the sun only proved his assesment. Llorrin noticed Irewyth briefly looking over her shoulder at him. Though he'd been only half-serious, he still hoped the Hydromancess hadn't heard him complain. Their eye contact and his thoughts were broken when Wheann suddenly came running back from the shore, waving his arms wildly and shouting. Llorrin reached for his cutlass and Chuth aimed his rifle, expecting to see someone - or something - chasing after the Half-Elf, but it quickly turned out there was nothing there. Chuth grumbled something and lowered his rifle. By the time Wheann reached them they had all gathered together. The explorer was sweating profusely, some of it tickling down the ground as he stopped: clearly the Half-Elf had made haste to return. Everyone except Carekon looked eager for some action and to hear what the Half-Elf had to say, but he didn't seem to have the breathe left to tell his entire tale.

"You'll want to see this" he huffed instead.

They began to follow Wheann's tracks, which led them closer to the water again, which was something no one seemed to mind. There was a huge rock pillar standing just beyond the edge of the water that looked like it had been put there by giant hands. When they had gotten around it Lorrin finally saw the cause of Wheann's concern. The pillar, big as a bastion, had blocked it from sight up until now, but there, crashed into the sand, was the toppled carcass of one of their ships, splintered by the storm. It had been smacked inland and cast onto its side with so much force the side of the hull that had hit the beach had snapped and was pointing at a grotesque, irreparable angle. The once proud sails had been ripped to shreds by the wind and the masts were cracked like twigs.

"Looks like the Wavebraver to me" Chuth said. He often prided himself on being able to tell every ship in the navy from another even at a hundred feet away.

"Ironic she should have met her fate in such a way" one of the footmen remarked. Everyone seemed too concerned to enjoy his joke.

"There's no corpses" Carekon observed while putting away his maps and his quill for the first time since they had started out.

"Maybe the crew survived" Llorrin said hopefully. He had made quite a few friends even beyond the crew of the Orcduster.

"Unlikely" Irewyth quickly crushed his hopes with a voice like she was speaking to an ignorant child. "Open your eyes. There's no tracks."

This time Llorrin wasn't about to let her roll over him so easily.

"But look, someone had been stacking up those crates!" he claimed. He pointed at a brazier standing near to the stacked up crates. It had some charred pieces of wood inside of it.

"And _those_, are the remains of a fire. Someone _must_ have survived" he protested.

Irewyth still didn't seem very impressed.

"For a while, maybe" she said, perking an eyebrow.

"The crew must have been here," Gweann figured as the group closed in on the site. He made a face as he knelt down near the brazier. The brittle remains of the wood crumbled as he touched it. The Half-Elf rubbed some of the ash between his fingers.

"It's no wonder there's no tracks. This fire burnt a few days ago at least. I don't see why they would abandon their site when they're this well-stacked though. Perhaps they were overcome?"

"That seems unlikely as well. Why fight the men but leave the supplies?" Irewyth asked.

The way her voice and attitude changed for the better every time she addressed the Half-Elf irritated Llorrin for some reason, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"Wait a minute..." he said as he started forward. The ground directly around the campfire somehow looked unnatural to him. He was just reaching out with his left hand to feel the ground when one of the footmen took off his helmet, shrugging his throat. Now that his withered, reddened face was revealed it was even easier to tell how much the man had been suffering from the heat under that piece of steel.

"_Bah_. This cursed land is just too hot. We might as well get back. Nothing could survive here" he spoke in a gruff voice, scowling at the sand. The footman had only just finished speaking when suddenly he screamed. Llorrin spun around only to discover the warrior had been pulled into the ground all the way down to his middle. The sand around the man turned red almost instantly. Everyone watched in horror, as if frozen in place while the man thrashed about. The soldier's body convulsed and he screamed repeatedly as he clawed at the sand in an attempt to pull himself out of the pit he'd fallen into, unable to form any coherent words. His partner was the first to break out of the trance.

"Hold on Tyrek!" he cried out, running forward while the rest of the group made haste to step back, suddenly more concerned with the ground below their own feet than the trapped marine's fate. Rushing forward, the brave footman threw his shield off to the side and reached out his now free hand at the dying man, diving onto his knees in an attempt to reach him faster.

"No wait!" Llorrin shouted as he overcame his initial shock and started forward as well, reaching for the pistol tucked inside his vest, but it was already too late.

The second footman never reached his comrade. With a final cry, Tyrek was pulled underground, and his would-be saviour vanished beneath the Earth almost simultaneously as the ground below him gave way as well. His screams immediately became muffled as sand fell down upon him. Llorrin stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the pits, watching in horror at the sight of the shifting body being torn apart below the crimson sand. He aimed his pistol, but realized it was too late for either of the men.

"Something's beneath us!" Carekon called out.

"Oh really?!" Gweann cried out with an unhealthy dose of disrespect considering the huge difference between the chaplain and the Half-Elf in terms of status, but Carekon seemed too perplexed to even notice. The Half-Elf was clenching curved knives in his hands in a reverse grip, but against opponents that were this deeply entrenched, he might as well have been unarmed. Gweann's voice was still up in the air when the bang of Llorrin's pistol went off. A green fluid flew up out of the pit, but from the screech and the sudden way the Earth moved he could tell whatever he had hit wasn't dead yet. Chuth seemed unfazed and took a step towards the pit the first footman had dissapeared into.

"I've got a special treat for them tunnelin' bastards!" the sniper growled as he put an item from his pouch down the barrel of his gun. He quickly aimed and fired down, and the size of the blast coming from his musket seemed more befitting of a cannon. The cry from the creature below was almost entirely drowned out by the blast. It sent a tremor through the ground, which Llorrin found somehow alarming, even if he couldn't really tell why. The young marine covered his eyes from the sand that was blown in every direction by the blast, but still caught a glimpse of several monstrous legs and what looked like a head flying out of the pit in between the wave of sand.

No matter how much of an idea of what it was they were fighting that gave him, nothing could have prepared Llorrin for the bleeding creature that burst out of the pit he had fired into right after the dust had settled. His eyes widened at the sight. He was faced with a brightly-coloured, massive, four-legged insectoid with narrow eyes and sharp fangs at the front of its head, fangs that were stained in the blood of his comrade. More blood was stained on two shorter, pointed 'arms' that looked almost the same as its legs at the front of its body, but were clearly meant for fighting rather than movement.

Awakened by a sudden surge of anger Llorrin's hand reached for his cutlass. The creature was quickly upon him and drew back an arm for a strike just as the marine was about to pull his weapon forth. Llorrin stopped himself only right on time when suddenly Irewyth jumped in front of him, planting the edge of her staff against the insectoid's head. The monster stopped moving almost entirely as his body fluids froze, denying him his movement. Wheann came spinning in with impossible speed. His Elven daggers flashed one, two and three times in quick succession, severing the Reaver's fighting arms and forelegs. Since the creature looked like it was hard to kill he spun to its front, burying one dagger in the beast's eye socket while bringing one down into its head from above. The creature now stopped moving completely, even when Irewyth drew back her staff, and quickly collapsed.

"Get closer to the water! There might be more!" Llorrin shouted as he started reloading his pistol, taking several steps back. Everyone was wise enough to follow. More did appear, jumping out from pits along the shore, and Llorrin now saw why the way the earth had trembled when Chuth had used his special ammunition had worried him. Even at first glance, he counted more than fifty of the beasts, and the Reavers' numbers only continued to grow as more creatures popped out of the sand further away from them.

"Well, at least we know what happened to the others now" Wheann said wryly, his daggers dripping with blood.

"It will be difficult for us to get out of here" Carekon stated. With their back to the sea, there seemed to be no way out for any of them.

"Piss on that" Chuth growled as he fired his musket. It was a perfect shot that exploded a Reaver's face and stopped him dead in his tracks. A blue magic sphere flew from Carekon's hand, taking the shape of a bird right before it hit into another creature. Blue light engulfed the beast's entire body and the monster collapsed, but the Reavers disregarded their losses, charging onward. Lorrin finished reloading his pistol and waited for the creatures to get close enough to make the shot count, but he knew it would be useless: their efforts were about as useful as pouring water into a volcano. His pistol had only just spoken, wounding a Reaver's leg, when Irewyth suddenly spoke up.

"Get in front of me, all of you, and _don't move!_" she commanded.

"In that order?" Wheann asked with a wry smile, but he nevertheless complied.

No one knew what Irewyth was planning or even if she was just trying to save herself, but they nevertheless obeyed. Wheann had to pull Carekon, who seemed frozen, with him. The creatures had almost reached them and Llorrin was getting nervous about standing still. He was considering diving into the ocean, when Irewyth's eyes suddenly glowed a vibrant blue and she held out her staff horizontally in front of her, the powerful tool brimming with magic. Ice spikes shot up from out of the drenched sand below, surrounding their group like a fence and impaling several Reavers from below while others crashed against the perimiter. No matter how impressed he was, it took Llorrin only a moment to realize the shards were never going to hold out forever.

He was so caught up in the spectable that he didn't notice the gigantic wave spilling in their direction until the very last moment. Llorrin cried out, but the water somehow didn't slam into them, seemingly evading them on purpose. The Reavers were already beginning to flee. He noticed a smirk on the Hydromancess' face as she exploded the icy spikes outward, the splintering shards killing many Reavers as they turned their backs.

The waves were faster than the Silithids, crashing into the beasts and flowing into the holes in the ground they had emerged from. Their terrified shrieks filled the air. But if the insectoids were drowning, why weren't they? They were swaying from right to left on the waves, drifting among drowning Silithids, but nevertheless the ground beneath his feet still felt solid. Llorrin could barely believe his eyes as he looked down. The entire party was drifting along the turbulent waters on a block of ice! He looked at Irewyth, who looked strained at the effort it was taking to keep the ice block level. Llorrin quickly checked his feet because he was sure he was going to slip, but his feet were stuck about an inch into the ice and remained where he put them, and every time he moved the ice would twist and lodge itself around them again. The sudden cold was a painful sensation, but that was the least of his worries now.

He'd only just noticed the fascinating workings of the magic when a Reaver's arms appeared from the water, the creature clawing fervently to climb onto the iceblock. Disgusted, Llorrin put his boot in the struggling beast's face and shoved it back down to drown. From the corner of his eye he caught the rock pillar they had passed earlier. Something about it alarmed him. Then he saw shapes moving on and about the rock, and with a shock realized that it hadn't been just a rock. It was a nest.

Wheann had noticed it as well.

"Look!" the Half-Elf shouted, pointing at the giant wasp-like creatures flying out of the rock. Llorrin squinted and brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. They were as brightly coloured as their Reaver counterparts, but their sword-like stings and long fighting arms alone already made them look far more dangerous to Llorrin. The buzzing sound the wasps made grew exponentially as more and more appeared from the nest. Some were simply buzzing about, but those who noticed the group flew in their direction. As they got closer Llorrin could clearly tell the beasts' bodies were longer than any human's.  
"Flyers!" Carekon warned them once he saw them too.  
Irewyth threw the monsters an agitated glance.  
"Now that's all we need" she muttered darkly.

Chuth, who had never stopped reloading his musket even with all the madness going on around them, didn't hesitate one second and fired, dropping one of the creatures out of the sky. Llorrin was forced to reach for his second pistol, the one on his hip, and this time didn't wait for the beasts to draw closer. His shot hit one in the wing, and while not lethal, it sent the creature plummeting down into the water where it would surely drown. Carekon tried to use the Holy Light to ward them off, but it only seemed to attract more of them. A good dozen of the wasps were headed towards the iceblock. Irewyth aimed her staff and sent a large frostwave rippling through the air towards the beasts, destroying their formation and dropping several more into the ocean. Those who evaded the blast swerved around and moved to surround the party. Llorrin knew they were going to have a tough time dealing with the insectoids, and if more arrived from the nest... Someone had to do something, and fast. It came as no surprise that it was Irewyth who seemed to have a plan.

"Cover me!" the Hydromancess shouted, moving to the middle of the iceblock. She started channeling a spell, but Llorrin had no idea how long it was going to take. They were so close together he could see the sweat tickling down her face and feel her heavy breathe on his skin. He had to try hard not to get distracted.

"Put your backs to each other!" he shouted as the Silithids began to circle the ice block, getting closer and closer with each pass. There was no time to reload his pistols, so he pulled out his cutlass, the metal gleaming in the sun. As if provoked by the ring of the metal, the beasts charged. The buzzing sound they made grew louder to the point it was almost unbearable.

With Irewyth concentrating on the enemy nest rather than keeping her ice block afloat and level, the improvised raft grew extremely shaky during the fight, making it difficult to the party to keep their footing, but also made it difficult for the Silithids to strike at them. The fighting looked clumsy at best.

Llorrin cut at the passing Silithids many times, but dealt and received only small wounds. Of all those fighting he could tell he was still doing best though. Chuth, who didn't possess a true melee weapon, tried to use his rifle as an improvised club but seemed more likely to topple over into the water at any moment than defeat any of their opponents. The instant the gruff veteran was given a second's respite the sniper reached to his side and pulled out a bayonet, which he put on his rifle only just in time to catch a Silithid's wild charge. He was nearly knocked onto his back, but with some help from Carekon managed to remain standing and drop the creature into the ocean. The chaplain had crept to the middle of the circle as well. He aided his companions with bursts of light that healed any injuries they sustained, but was otherwise useless. Wheann once again found his daggers to be too short to fight effectively under these circumstances, and could do little more than defend himself. The fight seemed to go on for ages and more wasps kept arriving, when suddenly the call of Irewyth's loud voice drowned out everything else.

The Hydromancess cried out in effort as she directed an enormous wave up from the sea to slam into the Silithid nest. The buzzing increased as many more wasps flew up from the nest to get to safety. Her spell hit the rock pillar with so much force that the entire nest was toppled onto its side, crashing with a huge splash that sent droplets so far Llorrin could vaguely feel them on his skin. Irewyth wasted no time directing more waves over the fallen rock. Those wasps that managed to escape flew out from all of the holes, fleeing inland. Their buzzing grew louder with each one that exited the nest, and Llorrin was certain his eardrums were going to explode. Those fighting them halted their efforts, hovered in midair for a moment as they assessed the situation and then began to fly off one by one. None of them could help but feel relieved. The buzzing remained in the air even as the beasts removed themselves but quickly grew fainter.

"What are they doing?" Llorrin asked no one in particular.

"Simple" Irewyth said, panting a little. "The nest is destroyed, so they no longer have to defend this area."

"I didn't know you were this powerful" Llorrin said admiringly, which evoked a scoff from the Hydromancess.

"It might dissapoint you. I won't be doing much more spellcasting today."  
Llorrin stared into the distance. "I hope your little spell hasn't drowned our companions further up."

"No" Irewyth answered him with a thin smile. "I created a very local storm."  
"Speakin' of drownin'" Chuth grunted. "We're one man short."

The party looked around to check who was missing, and then at each other.  
Everyone reacted differently, but the same name was on their lips:

"Carekon."

"He must have slipped during the fighting!" Wheann called out, looking around for any signs of the chaplain in the water. He found none.

"Are you filling in for Carekon already?" Irewyth said, raising an eyebrow.

Wheann was visibly shocked at her careless demeanour, but Irewyth disregarded him and thrust her staff in the air. The water started drifting back into the sea as the ice block somehow went against the stream and floated them onto the mainland. The shore was littered with drowned Reavers, and the pits they had appeared from had all been filled up with sea water.

"Good" Chuth growled as he jumped off of the iceblock. "I was gettin' cold feet."

Irewyth ignored the sniper's complaints, following him down along with the others.

"Even Carekon wouldn't drown in this amount of time" she said confidently, but as she looked over the Reavers she already seemed to be reconsidering that statement. "Those insectoids did, though. Go look for him, _fast_" she quickly added. The Hydromancess was only just done talking when she slumped down on the wet ground. Her face was pale and her eyes pressed shut as she sighed.

"Hey, are you alright?" Llorrin asked her as the others walked on ahead, crouching down next to Irewyth and reaching out a hand towards her back. Irewyth didn't even look up.  
"_Go. Look. For him_" the Hydromancess repeated before his hand ever reached her, a frown set upon her brow.

Llorrin made a face and joined the search for Carekon. He squinted and brought one hand up against the stinging sun. While the sea water that had splashed onto his uniform during the fighting felt cool, having soaked boots was far less comfortable. The salt the quickly drying sea water left dehydrated and irritated his skin.

None of the Reavers still moved, but he still kept his distance when he could, only going near the water-filled pits to check if Carekon's corpse was perhaps floating in one of them. He also didn't waste time reloading his pistols. Llorrin didn't share Irewyth's optimism that the insectoids were just going to take this lying down.

"Carekon!" Wheann called. The others quickly joined in, their voices carrying far across the plains, but no answer came. The shock and the fight had taken a lot out of the party. Any hope of finding Carekon began to dwindle when only a few pits remained to be searched. Llorrin was about to give up when all of a sudden he thought he sensed something... _magical_. He returned to check a pit he'd only just passed when he heard something burst up from the water behind him. He almost jumped as he turned and brought his pistol down with a shock, but lifted it just as quickly when he was met with a familiar face.

"Carekon!" Llorrin greeted the soaked chaplain with a big grin. With his free hand, Llorrin helped the aged man out of the pit. The chaplain was holding something in his hand. His maps, Llorrin could tell, or better said, what used to be his maps. Apparently he'd made sure to hold onto them even as the waves had swept him away.

_Talk about dedication_ Llorrin thought as he stared at the ruined maps, unable to figure out whether he admired the chaplain or thought him insane.

"I will have to redraw this" Carekon said with a deep sigh. Llorrin nodded a little, his eyes already beginning to stray away. Then Chuth's raw voice caught his attention.

"Chaplain!" the sniper called from further up shore. "Ye may want ta see this."

The insectoid's corpses weren't the only thing that had been lifted up by the water when the underground tunnels had been flooded. Something else was also floating in the pits. Llorrin almost winced at the sight. Those were _dead humans_, most of them in armour. Many were heavily mutilated.

"Gruesome" Wheann observed the dead bodies of their comrades. Llorrin nodded, more than forced to agree.

"Alas, these men can no longer be healed" Carekon said solemnly.

Llorrin and Wheann shared a look, then turned away from the chaplain.

"Hey Irewyth!" Wheann called, a smirk adorning his face. "Are you going to sit there all day?"

The Hydromancess got up but made no haste to reach them. When she finally did she slapped Wheann softly against the cheek as she passed him without even bothering to give him a look.

"Give those men a proper burial" she ordered.

After the party had finished burying all the Stormbraver marine corpses they could find, Wheann turned to Irewyth and Carekon, his eyes switching between the both of them several times.

"So... what do we do now?" he asked.

To Lorrin's surprise it was Carekon who spoke up.

"We have to fulfill our task" the chaplain stated.

"Shouldn't we return to the base to warn Captain Adane of these creatures?" Llorrin suggested. The sun had already dried his clothes and was again beginning to take it's toll.

"The captain has more than enough men to defend himself. Simple creatures such as these insects are unlikely to breach his defences, and that is _if_they can even organize an offense."

Llorrin had to keep back a groan. He wiped his hand across his face to hide his sour expression, pretending he was only trying to get his hair out of his eyes. This was going to become a long day.

"We should stay as close to the water as possible. The beasts are unlikely to dig their holes so close to the water" Wheann advised after he'd returned from a very brief scouting trip. The rest of the party had taken the time to rest a little and let Carekon heal up any remaining wounds they had.

The chaplain nodded.

"Good thinking, Wheann."

_Phew_ Lorrin thought. The party quickly got moving, making the most of the sea-breeze.

"Do you have any idea what those were?" Llorrin asked Irewyth as Wheann once again went to scout on ahead. At first he thought she was going to ignore him, but it turned out she had just been thinking.

"I think those were Silithids."

"Silithids?"

"You heard me" Irewyth said with a reprimanding look. She sighed. "It's all very vague. I think I've read something on them in the Dalaran library, in some very old tomes. It was... long ago" she said. Her lip quivered a little and her mask dropped for the first time that day. Suddenly she seemed much younger, more vulnerable.

Llorrin understood. The Hydromancess had been born and raised in Dalaran, so it came as no surprise that thoughts of her home, which had been overrun by the Scourge, brought her sadness. At least Llorrin's home was still intact. After all he considered Kul Tiras his true and only home. _I don't have any memories of that place_ Llorrin told himself as his thoughts strayed to another place he could, perhaps should have been calling home instead. Llorrin truly remembered nothing but the things he'd been told about his birthplace though, no matter how hard he tried. _It just goes to show how little time I must've spent there_ he thought, trying hard to keep an image of Kul Tiras in his mind rather than try and imagine the village he'd never _truly_ come to know. Llorrin realized he'd drifted off and should have probably said something to soothe Irewyth, but quickly figured out he'd already let the moment slip by. They spent a few moments in silence, and then all of a sudden Irewyth increased her pace.

"I should go help Wheann" she brought out. "There's probably no more of these pits here, but we can't be too careful."

She left him in the company of Chuth and Carekon.

_Great_ Llorrin thought, but to his surprise the sniper started talking as soon as the Hydromancess had gone.

"Got the hots for that lass? Take ma advice brat, I wuldn't go there."  
Llorrin raised an eyebrow. He couldn't have been more surprised if Sir Lothar himself had burst up from the sand on the back of a gryphon.

"Since when do _you_ give people relationship advice?" he asked, blinking a couple of times to make sure he was actually talking to Chuth.

Chuth looked at him through one eye.

"Since now."

Llorrin wasn't feeling up for this.

"I bet you're a real lady's man, Chuth" he smirked, trying to end the conversation. To his dismay, the sniper wouldn't shut up.

"Don'tcha think it's suspicious?" he asked.

"What?"

"Conjuring that storm... Like the storm that almost took our 'eads."

_That again._

"What she did back there was nowhere near the level of that storm, Chuth," Llorrin said without hesitation. "Even you said you'd never seen anything like it. Whatever caused it, I'm sure it's affected the whole world. Just look at the land."  
Llorrin was aware of the ominous ring to his words. He wasn't sure why he sounded so certain about what he'd just said, but nevertheless, he was. He prayed again that the Grand Admiral was alright.

_Well, it shut up Chuth, at least __**that's**__ something._

"We should head further inland" Carekon decided after a while. This time Llorrin groaned out loud, but luckily the chaplain didn't seem to take notice.

"We could follow this coastline forever" Carekon continued undisturbed. "Captain Adane wanted us to look for inhabitants, and resources. We're not going to find much here."

He was only just done speaking when Wheann returned. It was easy to lose sight of the Half-Elf, but now he made his presence known. The worried expression he carried was plain for all to see.

Llorrin grimaced. "More insects?"

Chuth scoffed and brandished his musket. "Afraid boy? I say let 'em come."  
"There's survivors, up ahead" Wheann whispered. "But they're not alone. Follow me, but keep your heads down. And draw your weapons."

They frowned but did as they were told. Regardless of how light-footed he was, Wheann left some tracks in the sand. They proceeded to follow the Half-Elf's tracks back onto a high dune. Wheann motioned for them to be quiet and lie down. They crept the remaining distance and peered over the top of the dune, which descended rather steeply on the other side. Another dune across from them bordered a large flat area in between that was littered with rocks, and the skeleton of a great beast that was only partially covered by the sand. What Llorrin saw down there was mind-boggling.

In between what must have been the ribs of the large beast a group of worn-out marines had been imprisoned. Various creatures were fighting to keep a large man who had apparently broken free of his bonds under control. Llorrin was close enough to see the fear in his eyes: no doubt the trolls had something terrible in store for him. Llorrin felt lucky that the man put up such a good fight and had distracted his captors enough for their approach to go unnoticed. If any of the trolls looked up...

_It's clear they don't have a lot of natural enemies_ Llorrin thought, noticing the lack of sentries guarding the camp. _Perhaps they're just too primitive to think of something like that_ he speculated, taking a closer look at his comrades' jailors.

At first the creatures looked very peculiar to him, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Llorrin licked his lips and squinted, suddenly realizing he_had_ seen something like them before after all. _Trolls_ he thought, immediately disgusted by these old allies of the Horde. He wondered if they did actually belong to the Horde though. _These_ particular trolls seemed to have adapted to the desert climate and could very well be natives. Then again, they sure as hell looked savage enough to find their place among the Horde, and their actions spoke for themselves. The trolls finally got the struggling man under control and dragged him towards a pile of stacked wood which was ignited with the greatest of ease by another troll. Llorrin noticed the fear on the marine's eyes. He followed his gaze to find the exposed skeletons of dead men lying in the sand off to the side of the fire.

"We have to help them" he insisted, frustrated that Carekon had not yet given the order.  
"They outnumber us" Carekon stated.  
"We have the element of surprise" Llorrin spoke urgently.

He looked over the trolls. Most were bare-chested, but one wore an intricate cape with all sorts of bones woven into the cloth, and held a staff. No doubt he was the leader, or at least some kind of shaman. The important-looking troll walked over to the fire and pulled out a knife. The knife quickly found the captured marine's throat. The trolls who weren't watching their prisoners gathered around and started repeating one and the same word over and over.

"Atal'Gahz'rilla, Atal'Gahz'rilla..." their voices drummed over and over, and the flames began to sway and expand, like they were reacting to their call.

"Chuth, put him down!" Llorrin insisted.

Chuth, who wasn't about to take orders from Llorrin, looked at Carekon for acknowledgement, but the chaplain said nothing.

"Do it!" Irewyth hissed.

Chuth lined up the shot as fast as he could. One of the trolls must have caught the glimmer of the sun on the steel edge of his rifle from the corner of his eye. The creature pointed and cried out, causing the other trolls to look up. The shaman's sacrificial knife lowered one inch, and that's when Chuth made the shot. The shaman's eye socket exploded as the bullet entered his head. A spurt of blood came from the back of his skull, and he crashed down.

"Boss-man!" one of the trolls cried out in horror. The flames roared up as if in anger before shrinking back to their original state.

The other trolls screamed in outrage when they saw the intruders and began to run around the camp to scoop up weapons, scattering in the process. Llorrin was the first to charge down the hill, reaching for his cutlass. He didn't want to give the creatures the time to get the idea to use their prisoners as hostages, so he forsook all caution.

"For Kul Tiras!" Llorrin cried out as he charged down the hill, drawing his cutlass in the process. Drawing nearer, he noticed the fire burning in the troll's eyes and the dried blood that stained their tusks. His heartbeat increased in anticipation as he ran on, and he'd be damned if he'd let the numbing feeling that had overtook him when he first faced the undead freeze him now.

"Proudmoore! Proudmoore!" Chuth, ever devout to the Grand Admiral, shouted as he followed after the young marine.

Painfully aware of the odds, Llorrin brought down the first troll in his path with his pistol without slowing his pace. The troll behind the one that fell readied to catch Llorrin's charge on his spear at the base of the dune, planning to use his opponent's speed against him. The spear shot forward like a snake, the tip headed straight for his belly, but Llorrin showed he was light-footed and jumped to the side. Llorrin's pistol clashed against the troll's spear as he used the firearm to push it to the side, and his cutlass quickly made use of the opening, cutting the troll's throat. In a blur, his companions sped past him, charging into the fray.

As the troll went down Llorrin caught something sailing through the air. He only just reacted to it. A throwing axe clashed against the steel of his cutlass and bounced back into the sand. The shock could have knocked the cutlass out of his hand, but through sheer determination Llorrin somehow held on to it. His eyes followed the trajectory of the axe back to it's owner and found a troll brandishing a number of small axes standing a little ways off. Llorrin scowled. The vile beast had already begun to draw back another axe. Without hesitation Llorrin surged forward, shifting his weight from the one foot to the other the moment the troll made his throw. The axe glanced past his arm, cutting through his flesh. Llorrin winced in pain, but a small burst of light quickly appeared above the wound, removing any evidence of it in an instant. _Carekon_ Llorrin knew as he charged on, trying to ignore the intense heat that wafted over him. With no true melee weapons held ready, the axe thrower became easy prey.

He'd just begun to turn to look for another opponent when something slammed into his back, knocking him into the sand. In a reflex Llorrin twisted onto his side and rolled over his shoulder, kicking out. A shock of pain went through his shin as it connected with the leg of the largest Sandfury warrior he'd encountered yet. The raging troll plunged a spear down at him, but Llorrin struck out at it with his cutlass and managed to hit it to the side. Though he avoided a lethal hit, the tip still grazed his side, pierced the fabric of his uniform and pinned him to the ground. Llorrin clenched his teeth against the pain and put all the force he could muster in a vertical kick to the groin that sent the troll screaming and staggering backwards, unfortunately without losing his grip on his spear.

As blood began to well up from his side Llorrin took the opportunity to push himself up, taking a wild swing at the warrior's head as he attempted to stay close to his enemy, to prevent the troll from using his longer reach to his advantage. His opponent however raised his spear and put the flat of his fist behind the point where both weapons connected, proceeding to push Llorrin's sword all the way down to the ground. Before Llorrin could do anything a kick connected with his stomach with enough force to lift him off the ground a little. The force knocked all of the air out of his lungs and the cutlass slipped from his fingers. Llorrin clutched his stomach as he fell down to his knees. He looked up to find the troll spinning his spear around so the tip faced his neck, ready to deliver the killing blow. He saw the sun reflect off the tip as it shot towards his throat. Before he knew what he was doing his hand shot out and grabbed around the shaft, stopping it an inch away from his neck. The troll continued to push, and his strength forced him to bring another hand up to the shaft.

The shaft was quickly beginning to slip through his sweaty hands. Was this how he was going to meet his end? Was he going to let all of his companions to their fates? Llorrin heard explosions of magic, cries of pain, anger and the sound of steel cutting through flesh, wood and bones around them as his companions fought the trolls. He couldn't even tell whether they were winning or losing, so fixed on his struggle with the large warrior he was. As he felt the tip of the spear prick into his neck Llorrin realized he no longer had a choice and instantaneously reached inside his pocket for his second pistol, aiming it up at his opponent's face. Llorrin's blue eyes met the troll's for the fraction of a second. The creature had fought Kul Tiras marines before: Llorrin could tell he knew what it was he held in his hand. Either way, it was too late. Without giving the troll a chance to pull back he grinned and pulled the trigger. The grin remained on his face even as blood from the falling warrior's throat rained down on him.

While he got up and the warrior lay dying, drowning in his own blood, Llorrin saw the fight had ended, and somehow all the members of their party still appeared to be standing. Chuth had been the subject of many attempts to avenge the shaman and was stained in blood, the grisly cut that ran from his shoulder all the way down to his forearm the biggest piece of evidence of the troll's anger. Nevertheless he seemed calm, cleaning off his bayonet on the dead shaman's ritual clothing. Wheann's daggers were slick with blood from the many opponents he had defeated, but he had also suffered a cut running down across the left side of his chest himself. Irewyth was still standing at the base of the dune, panting slightly but seemingly unharmed. Two water elementals stood silently at her side, and the only trace she had left of her opponents were some frozen shards of ice at her feet that quickly melted before the sun. Llorrin made a mental note to forget about her earlier assessment that she needed rest.

_It's not like you to be modest, Irewyth_ he thought, admiring both her and the water elementals even as the Hydromancess dispelled her summoned warriors. The man they had been trying to save unfortunately hadn't made it: he'd been run through with a spear before he'd even been able to claim a weapon of his own. _Damn trolls_ Llorrin thought, scowling at the sight.

"We won" Carekon said, lifting his chin as he observed the area. The bodies of sand trolls were strewn across the area, and suddenly they no longer looked all that savage or brutal.

Shrugging the thought off, Llorrin turned to move towards the carcass, where the prisoners were being held. Irewyth was close behind him. He stole a glance at her and decided that the Hydromancess _did_ look tired after all, but this time resisted the urge of asking her anything.

"Light bless you, Orcduster marines" a tied up marine who must have recognized Irewyth thanked them. "We thought we were troll meat."

Llorrin didn't feel like inquiring any further into that statement. The sight of the skeletons was one that would already haunt him enough. The ribs were in his way. With the adrenaline still pumping, the idea of having to go around did not suit him much. He grabbed one and took his frustration out on it. His cutlass cut into the bone several times, and he proceeded to break the weakened rib with some fell kicks, all the while aware of Irewyth's piercing stare on his back. The soldiers were well tied up, so he used his knife to start freeing them.

"What happened to you men?" he inquired.

One of the marines cleared his throat.

"We are the crew of the _Light's Pride_, or rather, what's left of it" he spoke in a taxed voice. "During the storm, another one of our ships was sent crashing into us. We realized she was going to sink, so we boarded one of the sloops and made for land. Needless to say our sloop didn't last long. Those of us who didn't drown immediately were picked up on the shore and caught one by one by the sand trolls" a bearded sniper answered him.

"At least they brought us together again" he then added, raising his shoulders.  
Llorrin sighed. If the storm had been powerful enough to sweep men away this far, who could tell how long it would take for them to reassemble all the stragglers?  
A man with a crazed look in his wide open eyes continued the tale.

"They... they wanted to know where we were f-f-from, if- whether we had come to invade them. When they lost their interest they started killing us off! One each day. First, they ate Bors, and y-yesterday they ate Luglan. It was the shaman! He killed them! It was a sacrifice to their _god_" the man rambled, his eyes glazing over as he spoke.  
"I saw it" Llorrin told him, unwilling to hear any more, though he did wonder what that Atal'Gahz'rilla thing they had been saying could possibly have referred to, and if what he supposed was the savages' deity even existed. _Probably not_ he decided.

"You... you'll have to burn them. The smell of the _blood_ will attract _hyenas_, or worse" the scared man advised him, his eyes switching between his saviour's face and the corpses several times. Llorrin didn't cease his task, but gave Irewyth a meaningful look. The Hydromancess, who hadn't joined his attempts to free the dozen or so men nodded to show she understood and started back towards the site of the battle.

"So there's native brutes as savage as the orcs on this island as well. I wonder what the admiral will think of that" Llorrin changed the subject.

He had a pretty good idea what Admiral Proudmoore would think about these trolls, especially when they reported to him what they had been doing to his men, but he wanted to avoid having to hear more details about their treatment from the crazed marine.

A demeaning chuckle broke his attention away from his task. Llorrin was immediately alerted. The voice was deep and evil-sounding, and most important of all, _not_ human. It made his hair stand on end. Then he saw it, and the adrenaline, the hate, which had only just been subsiding, once again burned through his body like a river of fire. At the edge of the skeleton, near where the tail of the once mighty creature began was a captured orc, bound by his hand and feet like the rest of the men.

The orc was clearly well past his best years. Time had engraved deep lines into his skin, and his imprisonment had only made it more rough and withered. His attire wasn't that of a warrior: no doubt his fighting days were over. The orc's long, wild hair had gone white. It made him look more like some sort of wild beast, which was little more than Llorrin regarded him as. Llorrin was surprised he hadn't noticed the beast's vile stench before. An angry frown appeared on his face as he stepped forward, the men who were still tied up momentarily forgotten. The knife dropped absently from Llorrin's hand for any of the freed men to claim.

"You're in no position to be laughing, orc" he told him, his voice as cold as a winter's chill.

"Oh, is _that_ so?" the greenskin chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He showed Llorrin a toothy grin. Some of the orc's teeth were missing while yet others were broken.

Llorrin frowned in disgust and reached for his cutlass.

"If you find the prospect of your impending death so amusing, I'm more than willing to comply."

The orc shrugged.

"Stab me if you must. At least I will have outlived your commander."

A shock went through Llorrin. Had something happened to Adane he did not know of while he was out?

"What?!" he asked, but nothing could have prepared him for the answer that came.

"Your 'Grand Admiral', the 'mighty' Daelin Proudmoore... is dead" the orc grinned.  
Llorrin didn't believe a word of it, but the claim did rile his anger. He stepped closer, a firm scowl tainting his lips and his knuckles turning white as they clenched around his bloodstained cutlass.

"You lying piece of-" he growled.

"And what would I win by lying in this position, hm? You humans are always so clever. Let's see if you can find an answer to that" the orc chuckled.

Llorrin had nothing. The deep, maddening voice of the orc seemed to echo in his head. He struggled with his thoughts as the orc sat back. Chuth had meanwhile appeared beside him, his musket pointed at the orc warily. His arm no longer bled: clearly Carekon had done a good job healing him. Llorrin was strangely grateful for the sniper's presence, and for some reason felt himself hoping Chuth's stubbornness would give the orc some pause. None of them spoke though, and the orc continued.

"I have dwelled these wastes for many years. This region is sparsely populated, but nevertheless I sometimes come across travelers foolish enough to see me as their ally..."  
The warlock's eyes glazed over as his thoughts seemed to drift off at the mention of the travelers. Saliva dripped down his jagged teeth. Llorrin didn't even _want_ to know the memories the orc was recalling... even though he'd still prefer them to any sort of confirmation Admiral Proudmoore had indeed fallen. Sadly, there was no stopping it.  
"I have a talent for dealing with people. They tell me things" the orc said almost proudly, and Llorrin had his own ideas about how the orc got his information.

"One such traveler told me your 'Grand Admiral' fought against the Horde at Tidefury Cove, and was utterly defeated. The Horde pursued him to the city of Theramore, where he was killed. I would have expected the rest of you to have died by now as well, but it turns out you're as difficult to exterminate as a nest of kobolds."

"The city of... Theramore?" Llorrin repeated slowly. His mouth felt dry. He'd never heard the name. Admiral Proudmoore had written his orders and separated the fleet before any of them had even landed on the shores of Kalimdor.

The orc scoffed.

"It would seem you marines have been isolated for a very long time. Good. Your ignorance is befitting of your race. Theramore was founded by the frail daughter of your vaunted admiral, and all those who were too weakhearted to try and stay to protect your lands from the Scourge. The same ones who fled here like the cowards they are... people like you" the orc taunted the marines, producing another toothy grin.

"Ye better not speak of M'lady Jaina like that" Chuth growled, pointing his rifle a little bit closer to the imprisoned orc's face.

"Your Horde fled the land first, in case you don't remember" Llorrin growled.  
"I'm not longer part of _that_ Horde," the orc claimed. "Regardless, the protection of the land didn't fall to them. You humans, along with all of the miserable races standing by your side, are the ones who let it fall."

Llorrin clenched his teeth. He was literally shaking with anger.

"That's right, it _wasn't_ your land, because we kicked you back out," he hissed, trying hard to contain his anger, "but you sure _thought_ it was yours. Why else try to take it from us?"

The warlock chose to ignore his question.

"The Horde spared the population of Theramore and Jaina for some reason I can't grasp, but Admiral Proudmoore is dead. Dead. Dead" the orc continued undisturbed. He repeated the word on purpose as he saw the anger and sorrow behind Llorrin's eyes intensifying.

"No!" Llorrin cried out, drawing forth his cutlass, but Chuth was faster. The gunshot went off and Llorrin held himself back, when he saw the orc was unharmed. Chuth couldn't possibly have missed, not at this distance. Before he could do anything one of the freed marines appeared at his side.

"It must be because of the ward. I think the shaman put it there to restrain him" the man said.

Llorrin had been so captivated by the old orc's tale that he'd never noticed the ward stuck in the sand right in front of him. It looked like a small totem of power and though there wasn't much special about it at first glance, he could feel it brimming with magic. It didn't come as a surprise to Llorrin Chuth didn't let such a 'magic trinket' as he would no doubt refer to it stop him.

"Let's get it o'er with!" the sniper growled as he moved towards the orc, his bayonet ready for the kill. When he encountered the ward he drew his foot back for a kick.  
"No wait!" the freed soldier cried out, but it was already too late. Chuth had already sent the ward flying, disrupting its power. Immediately, the orc was free, his bonds burning through like dry grass.

_By the Light!_ Llorrin thought as he felt magic being used, immediately realizing this was no mere old orc, but a warlock!

Chuth didn't hesitate and moved to impale the warlock on his bayonet, but suddenly there was a bristling sound and for a moment electric sparks engulfed the sniper's body only to disappear again the next. Chuth was frozen still, unable to move. Llorrin was right behind him, trying to use the sniper's body as cover to get close enough to strike with his cutlass, but as he jumped at the warlock from behind his comrade he immediately suffered the same fate. His body was frozen in a most uncomfortable position, and he soon noticed he couldn't even blink. From the corner of his eye he caught Chuth, whose expression no doubt mirrored his own.

_Chuth and I are getting too many things in common_ Llorrin groaned inwardly.

The spell didn't even allow their faces to move. Llorrin figured that didn't change much for Chuth.

_Hell, tell me a time he __**didn't**__ look bad-tempered._

The warlock's deep laughter boomed like a rolling thunder as he passed from the one man to the other, the exhausted marines becoming easy prey for his spell. Llorrin couldn't even turn his face to look what was happening as the orc passed him by, heading towards the rest of his comrades.

He hoped Irewyth would make short work of the warlock, or maybe Carekon, or even Wheann could take him out, but the only cries he heard over the sounds of battle were those of his companions. Mere minutes later the three of them were dropped in front of Llorrin's feet, all unable to move, just like him. The spell's strain on him had weakened to the point he could at least blink and breathe without feeling constant pain and having to fear his chest would cave in, but there was still no way he could move around. Carekon and Irewyth were both bound by their hands and feet, and the orc had even gone through the trouble of using an extra rope to tie up Wheann. Llorrin could only guess why.

The warlock moved towards them, and Llorrin picked up a disturbing sound. Every move the orc made was accompanied with a sound like that of bones tinkling against each other, like he had a huge collection of them tucked under his clothes. The mere thought made him feel sick.

"My best haul yet" the warlock snickered as he hit Llorrin in the face with the back of his hand, with enough force to knock him off his feet even if he'd been able to resist. His head was smacked to the side, in a way that forced him to look straight at the warlock, who stood over him with burning, intense eyes. Llorrin could feel blood tickling down the swelling side of his mouth, and was suddenly very aware of the bleeding cut in his side again, which he'd stupidly chosen to disregard earlier. The orc gathered his weapons up from the ground and tossed them all into the sand behind him and then returned to force him up into a sitting position.

_He left the knife. Why leave the knife?_ Llorrin thought as he caught the shimmering of the blade from the corner of his eye, doing his best to resist looking at the weapon. Perhaps the orc had overlooked it? He'd only just considered that when the orc suddenly reached for his knife. Llorrin's muscles tensed, but it was another man the warlock reached for, jerking him towards him violently.

_Carekon!_ he thought, trying hard to speak as the orc used Llorrin's own goddamn knife to threaten the chaplain. Carekon wasn't even conscious, apparently exhausted from the fight.

_It shouldn't be him! It wasn't his fault that bastard escaped! It's not fair!_ Llorrin tried very hard to speak, struggling against the grasp the spell had on him. He would have threatened the warlock, tried to provoke him into killing him instead, or even begged him to let the chaplain live if that was what it was going to take, but didn't manage to get even a single word past his lips.

"This one actually put up a fight. I am to assume he's your leader" the warlock said as he pointed at Carekon with the knife, looking at Llorrin as if he wanted confirmation. Of course he knew well enough Llorrin couldn't possibly answer him due to his spell. The warlock seemed to relish it.

"He will be the first to go, so all of you will know, that _none_ of you are safe."

Llorrin wished he could have closed his eyes as the warlock crouched down beside his unconscious victim. His stomach twisted as he saw Carekon's eyes begin to open. Llorrin felt sick to his stomach, knowing what was to come, and how helpless he was at preventing it. He wondered if he was able to vomit in this state, and hoped he wouldn't suffocate if he did. The knife went down, but not towards the poor chaplain's neck as he had first feared it would. Instead, it cut through the pinky of Carekon's right hand, severing it completely. Blood gushed out, colouring the sand a crimson red. Llorrin saw the pain behind Carekon's eyes, but the chaplain couldn't even move or scream. As he got up from the ground the orc tucked his macabre trophy in his clothes. As if to add insult to injury, he grabbed Carekon and threw him past Llorrin, who winced as some blood hit him in the face. At least now he wasn't forced to gaze upon his injured companion any longer. The warlock had been right: it was highly demoralizing to see someone with a high status like Carekon be brought down like this.

_Don't show it... don't let him see what it does to you_ Llorrin thought, fearing it was already too late for that.

"I have cut my ties with the Horde a long time ago. I might be a deserter, but that doesn't mean I'm a liar. Everything I've told you... is true. Spend your final moments in despair, _human_, knowing that you, and your entire race, are doomed" the orc grinned at him.

Llorrin felt he couldn't rely on his voice to answer him, and it only made him more grateful when Irewyth spoke up in his stead. He was certain he wasn't the only one who was hoping for her to save them all, somehow.

"You'll never get away with this you savage! No one beats me and lives!" Irewyth snarled with more contempt Llorrin had ever heard her aim at anyone, which was quite an achievement. She could make grown men shake in their boots, but the orc's lack of a real reaction was very disappointing.

"I'll reserve a special treatment for you, little sorceress. Maybe it'll make you feel better about your lost commander" the orc threatened.  
"Bastard" Irewyth bit, still defiant.

"Aah, shut it" the orc said, slowly raising a hand, and Irewyth gasped as the strain the spell put on her increased. Llorrin thought he'd heard her bones crunch, but was relieved to see Irewyth keeping a strong face. The orc grinned and walked away.

"Daelin... is dead?" Irewyth, who was lying in a precarious position, with the side of her face down in the sand, asked.

"That's what he said" Llorrin answered her with great difficulty, not only because of the spell. He couldn't tell whether he felt tears of anger or sadness welling up in his eyes.  
Chuth grunted.

"He's lyin' son...! He's lyin'! I'll be damned... if I believe somethin' like this... out of ta mouth of some stinkin' renegade orc!" he growled, foam staining his lips.

Llorrin would have rolled his eyes if he could. Being forced to listen to Chuth was all he needed right now. Apparently even the spell was powerless against the terror that was the sniper's mouth.

_I wouldn't believe him either, but his story was far too detailed to be made up in an instant... Even though he was clearly trying to provoke us... which he managed_ Llorrin thought regretfully, ashamed they had fallen for such an obvious trick. He hadn't given up all his hope that Daelin still lived, but that hope was quickly dwindling. What confused him the most was the part about the orcs sparing this new city of Theramore. Why would they do such a thing? It was not in their nature to be merciful. Surely the warlock would not have made something like that up if he wanted to be believed. His heart sunk.

The warlock hadn't bothered binding up any of the marines, apparently certain his spell would restrain everyone well enough. Llorrin could see him walking about the fire, singing incantations and throwing various objects onto it. His spine tingled as he realized the warlock had probably made sure he could see what he was doing on purpose. The flames reached higher, turned all kinds of different unnatural colours, and then settled for a foreboding bright green. The very sight of it made him feel sick. It occurred to Llorrin they seemed to have averted a sinister ritual only to cause one that was even worse.

"I'm beginning to get an idea of what _exactly_ happened to those travelers he told us about" Llorrin grimaced. To his dismay, he found no one was going to change his mind about that.

The sun shone down on him mercilessly and he felt the beginnings of a cramp in his legs, which had remained forced into an unnatural position. Blood continued to spread from the wound on his side, itching like a burn wound, but those were all the least of his worries. He'd completely forgotten to check the wound or have it healed, but then again it wasn't his main concern because the warlock would probably finish him off before it became fatal anyway. His anger was swirling inside of him like a vortex. The bittersweet sensation drowned out the feeling of despair that was trying to build up inside of him. It made him ignore the desperate groans coming from his brotheren. Right now there was only one thing in the world that drew his focus.

"May this unworthy sacrifice appease the Burning Masters!" the object of his anger shouted, raising his arms to the sky.

_Burning Masters? Is he referring to demons?_ Llorrin thought.

_Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse..._

The realization urged him to struggle even harder, but Llorrin soon found these efforts were about as useless as any endeavor he'd wasted trying to talk sense into Chuth. A hundred days of guard duty couldn't have frustrated him more. His weapons were there in the sand, right in front of him, but he couldn't get even an inch closer to them.

When he needed to catch his breath, he resolved to turn to Irewyth. These might be his final moments in this world, he figured he might as well talk to her. That was one thing the warlock wouldn't be able to take away from him.

"Can't we... fight it...?" he asked her, his voice strained.

"I've encountered this... spell... before. It should... wear off after some time... though in this case, I can't figure out... when. I believe he used a more... powerful spell on me, Carekon, and Wheann" Irewyth groaned, clearly not in the mood to talk.

"Why...?"

It was all he managed to bring out. He felt slightly insulted, but there was more than just his pride at stake here.

Irewyth sighed at Llorrin's lack of knowledge.

"Half-elves are often... more resistant to magic than us humans," she stated. "If you have a plan you'd better follow through with it quick. Otherwise, leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to explain magic to a warrior" the hydromancess then added. She seemed terribly frustrated. Upon closer look he could tell she was struggling to break free as well, and making as little progress as he was.

_Well thank you_ Llorrin thought, feeling genuinely insulted now. Unfortunately it didn't seem like the ideal time to tell her about his aptitude for magic to counter her disdain. The scene unfolding before his eyes quickly made him forget about it.

The flames had begun to creep higher and higher as the warlock called out his incantations in what he assumed to be some kind of demonic tongue. The mere sound of it made Llorrin's hair stand on end. He could sense the heat of the fire even from here, although it felt weird, different somehow, like the demonic flames would burn and freeze his flesh at the same time if he got too near. Llorrin's heartbeat rose and he began to breathe more easily, sweat dripping down his chin. He was able to lift his chest higher than it had right after he'd been cursed. Had the spell begun to wear off? It wasn't much, but it gave him fresh hope. Llorrin held on to that thought and continued resisting the spell. Grim determination crossed Llorrin's sweat-stained face. If he died now, he'd never find out if the warlock had spoken the truth.

_You will regret not tying me up_ Llorrin thought, trembling with anger as he stared at the warlock's back. Pure, venomous hatred dripped from the stormy blue pools that were his eyes. He thought he heard Irewyth gasp, but his focus remained on the warlock.

_You will regret all the lives you took._

Llorrin kept his lips pressed together as he slowly began to rise from the ground, a strain not unlike that of an entire day's labour ripping through his muscles in an instant. If his body were to explode the next moment, he wouldn't have felt surprised. Somehow, he didn't fall over. He bit his tongue, determined not to make any sounds the warlock could catch over the roaring of the flames. His hands clenched into fists and his arms rose at his side painfully slowly, forcing the spell away from him. With it some of the soreness ebbed away, although cramps still plagued his body. Llorrin didn't care. Hatred and adrenaline drowned out all of the fatigue. The heat was so intense it seemed to replace everything else. His hatred boiled together with his blood.

_You will regret ever crossing into our world_ Llorrin thought as the remnants of the spell wore off. The marine immediately started forward, reaching for his fallen cutlass. The next moment he picked Chuth's fallen rifle from the ground without slowing down.

_You will regret not putting these weapons further away from us_ Llorrin promised the warlock in silence as he broke into a sprint towards the unsuspecting orc's back. There was no space or time for subtlety: the orc was caught up in his ritual, but would soon notice his escape. It didn't matter. He was going down. When he was in a pistol shot's range from the orc, the vile murderer finally began to turn around. The greenskin's voice caught in his throat at the sight of the young marine charging towards him. Witnessing the sudden fear in his wide open eyes was as sweet a sensation as a lover's caress. As he got closer the icy heat of the flames bit into Llorrin's skin, as if it was trying to keep him from the orc. He didn't allow it to slow him down.

_You will regret underestimating me._

The warlock's hand came up to cast another spell, but Llorrin had anticipated this and had already finished drawing back the rifle for a throw. The weapon's weight and shape weren't helping him, but he tried to throw it like a spear, afraid he'd fall short. He didn't. The bayonet pierced the greenskin's hand and Llorrin felt a satisfied smile cross his face. A raw cry escaped from the warlock's throat as his head dropped back. Llorrin charged onward, drawing back his cutlass for a strike but also aiming his shoulder at his enemy. He was determined to knock the unarmed warlock into the hellish flames of his own creation. As he was about to plow into him the orc regained his composure however, ripping the rifle from his hand.

The orc's unharmed hand then came up, engulfed by fire, and sent a fireball slamming straight into the young marine's stomach. The air was smacked out of his lungs as if by an ogre's fist and an unbearable heat bit into his skin, burning hotter than the sun. Llorrin's throat immediately went sore as he very nearly screamed his lungs out. The temperature of the fireball was nothing compared to the heat he had already been enduring. The combination of the force of the fireball and the pain it caused brought him down onto his knees, but somehow Llorrin retained the clarity of mind to sweep out with his cutlass even as he hit the ground. It was a desperate effort, but nevertheless one that bit into the side of his opponent's kneecap. The cutlass had penetrated so deeply into the side of the orc's leg that it was yanked from Llorrin's grasp when the warlock toppled down.

Aware of the danger his enemy's spells presented Llorrin wasted no time to jump the fallen orc. He didn't even have time to wonder why he hadn't been lit on fire. Llorrin viciously punched the warlock in the face, but just as soon as he had hit him the warlock had already punched him back. The orc's gnarly fist connected with the side of his head, knocking it to the side. The entire world before his eyes turned white and for a second Llorrin couldn't feel his legs.

The hit allowed the orc to push his adversary off of him and roll Llorrin over to gain the upper hand. His sheer weight was massive and threatened to crush his legs. Llorrin's uniform had been burned through where the fireball had hit him and the skin of his stomach was charred red. It made the perfect target for the sadistic warlock, who eagerly pressed his nails down into the soft skin. The maddening pain in his stomach and the hit against his head made Llorrin fear he was going to pass out before he could win the fight, but his heartbeat rose painfully at the thought of what the orc would do to him if he lost and he somehow managed to keep his eyes open. He blinked rapidly and saw the vague image of more fire appearing on the surface of the warlock's injured hand.

A surge of panic went through Llorrin's body as the fire came for him once again. It gave him the strength to twist to the right in the last instant. The fiery hand missed his head by inches and slammed into the ground right next to it, turning sand to glass instantly. Even though he'd missed, the fire was still close enough to char his skin. The warlock had been brought out of balance by his unexpected miss though. Llorrin reached up with both his hands and grabbed him by the shoulders, violently butting his head into the brute's chin as he pulled him closer. The orc's eyes rolled back in his skull and he felt the warlock's body going limp underneath his hands. Llorrin never let go even as he slipped out from underneath his opponent, dragging the orc's body down so his face crashed onto the glass shards.

It made the warlock regain his consciousness. He screamed and flailed wildly as the glass drove into his head. Llorrin used his knee to press the orc's face down into the glass shards. The sand below his head turned red and Llorrin was certain he must've lost an eye already, but the pain gave the warlock new strength. His left arm came up, slamming into his back over and over again as his head inched up slowly, forcing Llorrin's knee up. Llorrin managed to catch the orc's arm and stop him from hitting him, but was having great trouble holding on to it. The warlock's panicked screams sent shocks through his body and sent a numbing feeling through his stomach. Llorrin felt the orc about to slip away when the image of Carekon bleeding in the sand passed before his eyes again, and then his eyes darkened and he saw only fire, heard only screams. He felt about as stable as a sailor caught on a raft in the middle of a storm but nevertheless pushed down with all of his might. The warlock's screams drowned out those in his head as the glass shards penetrated his skull. After several painstaking moments it was over, but the cries still seemed to echo in his mind.

Llorrin winced in agony, trying hard to breathe regularly. He would have screamed, but didn't have any breath left to do even that. Surely if his body wasn't so dry his eyes would have been watery from the pain alone. He withdrew from the disgusting corpse. He could only hope killing the warlock had also ended the spell and freed his companions, because exhaustion was forcing him to remain on his knees.

Suddenly he was confronted by the hellish flames.

They danced as if they'd been caught in a storm, but the sands around him were still. Though they had been close during the fight, only now did he realize just _how_ close. They seemed to be making up the entire world. He could still feel their icy heat so near to him, enveloping him, and somehow the feeling that had first been so horrible now seemed welcoming. They _called_ to him. Soon his legs were about to give in, he felt as if he was falling, falling...

Suddenly the flames were gone, consumed by the invisible storm, but the impression they had left remained. His eyes had glazed over. Llorrin only snapped out of it when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and something was put against his lips. _Water_ he thought as the precious liquid was poured into his mouth. He soon swallowed involuntarily. He'd much rather have held the sweet taste in his mouth for a bit longer. His hand was forced up and was soon pressing the flask against his mouth on its own.

"You need to drink" a voice spoke, seemingly from very far away.

_Carekon_ Llorrin realized as healing light engulfed him and the fog lifted from his mind. The burning sensation in his side faded as he literally felt the wound closing. The burns were an entirely different story. The healing light decreased the agonizing throbbing of his skin somewhat, but didn't make it go away. Llorrin quickly stole a look at Carekon's right hand, his stomach twisting in anticipation as it had before. The hand was still covered in blood, but no more blood was spilling out. Carekon had healed the wound well and seemed almost unfazed by it, but no magic he knew of could restore his hand completely. Though he felt Chuth was the one at fault, Llorrin couldn't help but feel sorry and guilty for the chaplain's loss. He noticed Irewyth standing over him to his left, a worried expression on her face. Behind him he heard the cheers of men as they were freed and went about collecting their weapons. He didn't know how long he sat there, panting, before Chuth appeared to his right.

"Yer lucky ye didn't break it, son" the sniper said as he picked up his rifle. He tried to act casually, but Llorrin still noticed something about his manner had changed. He had a faint feeling Chuth was trying to keep his distance. He finally pushed himself up with a loud groan. As his legs stretched it felt like molten lava streamed down his veins. Carekon stopped his attempts to heal him, looking at his charred skin with worry. Llorrin grazed the surface of his stomach with his fingers. It still hurt, but at least the skin wasn't as sensitive as before.

"The warlock's magic left a foul taint. There's nothing more I can do here," Carekon explained.

"You've done enough," Llorrin thanked him, laying a hand on the chaplain's shoulder briefly before turning to Irewyth. Carekon crouched down and began to study the ashes the hellish flames had left. The hydromancess produced something from the edge of her staff and presented it with him. It was a floating orb made of ice, about the same size as a fist.

"I think this should be yours. We found it in the bundle the trolls had stacked the Stormbraver marines' weapons in" Irewyth said with a seldom gentleness to her voice.  
"That orb was captain Jaymar's" a sour-looking marine standing to their left who Llorrin hadn't noticed before said. Irewyth was unimpressed.

"And captain Jaymar is _dead_, is he not?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes on the haggard-looking soldier.

"Well, yes, but-" the man stammered under her petrifying gaze, unable to finish his sentence. Irewyth immediately turned back to Llorrin and handed him the orb.

"It is done then" she announced with a voice that made clear there would be no further discussion on the topic. The marine bowed his head and left in a hurry. The moment Llorrin accepted the item the orb begun to circle his hand. He was unable to grasp it or run his fingers through it, like it wasn't even there. He experienced the cold the enchanted item spread like a blessing on his skin. The ice was obviously magical in nature, unaffected by the heat.

"Go on, apply it to one of your weapons" Irewyth urged him on.

"What will it do?" Llorrin asked doubtfully.

"Did you see what my ice did with those Silithids?" Irewyth smirked, lifting her chin proudly.

Llorrin recovered his cutlass from the ground, trying not to show the pain bending down gave him in front of Irewyth, and failing as a grimace forced its way onto his face. He flicked the cutlass upward and brought his right hand, the one with the orb, closer to the blade. Immediately the magic item jumped from his hand onto the blade and started circling it instead. The steel of his cutlass seemed to darken slightly under its influence, gaining a faint blueish hue. Even as Llorrin took some moments to admire the blade he spotted the disapproving glance of the man who had protested earlier. Irewyth was still staring at the marine, her arms crossed in front of her. He'd gathered some companions around himself. She felt her business with him wasn't done.

"How did you break the spell? None of the others could do as much as even budge" she said, once again speaking in her usual voice.

Llorrin shrugged and raised his shoulders, evading her eyes. He tried to keep a proud grin from crossing his face, and failed, much to the powerful sorceress' irritation, he could tell. The truth was, Llorrin didn't have a clue himself.

"Determination" he decided.

"Determination" Irewyth repeated doubtingly. She perked an eyebrow and turned away. Llorrin sighed as he watched her leave and wondered what it was going to take to do something that wouldn't irritate her when he heard Carekon's voice.  
"Bad omens, bad omens indeed. The Light rejects even the ashes those hellish flames left" the chaplain spoke gravely.

Perhaps if his head hadn't been spinning around so badly Llorrin could have answered that, but right now he let it slip. Chuth had already returned from the scuffle the marines were having over the weapons, though it seemed the venture had yielded him little. _Typical_ Llorrin thought. _His brain would probably implode if he spent more than two minutes away from someone who could order him around._ Chuth scoffed at the chaplain's assessment.

"That orc arsehole wasn't right in ta head. It might be nothin'."

Llorrin decided he'd better keep the effect the flames had left on him to himself. This time he didn't hide his lack of enthusiasm when he inquired Carekon about the plan.  
"Are we heading further inland?"

They still had a few hours left, but he really didn't want to go on.

"Those men are in bad shape" Carekon said with a nod in the freed marines' direction. "We shall head back immediately."

They salvaged what they could and patched up any remaining wounds before leaving the site, leaving the bodies of the dead lying in the sand. The journey back was arduous on the tired men, and few spoke, wary of this unknown, dangerous land. Water supplies were sparse, but they had taken some sort of awful-tasting liquor from the dead trolls which was passed around more slowly every time until even the thirstiest of men began to claim they could do without it.

"I'm able to drink it if the alternative is death, but if I was forced to keep drinking this all my life I'd rather die on the spot" Wheann had said, and everyone had been more than forced to agree.

Carekon didn't even once stop to redraw his lost maps, and everyone, including the chaplain, kept a keen eye out for threats. Nothing was going to ambush them in this open terrain, but the Silithids were a definitive cause for worry. Llorrin spent most of the trek with his eyes on the ground and his hand on his cutlass. The only times he looked up where when he wanted to make sure he hadn't mistaken the wind for the buzzing of the wasp swarms. He tried to concentrate on the danger so he wouldn't have to think about the warlock's ominous words too much. Maybe his absentmindedness was the reason he was surprised when they reached the camp. It felt like time had flown. He looked up as the soldier who had taken his place on guard duty shouted a greeting.

The crew hadn't been sitting still while they had been gone. A good part of the palisade wall on this side of the camp was finished and more tents had arisen along the length of the camp. Several small fires were burning and the aromas of both delicious and less delicious meals were up in the air. Nevertheless _all_ the scents were welcoming to Llorrin. He was starving. The crew was still working on repairs, but it was impossible to determine their progress at this distance. As they walked into the camp the party was quickly confronted by captain Adane. He had no guards at his side. Knowing the man, he had probably put literally everyone to work and didn't allow himself such luxury.

"Chaplain" Adane said with a cordial nod towards Carekon. Even though the captain was higher in rank, the spiritual wielders of the Light still held a special status that demanded everyone's respect. Everyone but Carekon saluted the captain as one man.  
"At ease" Adane barked, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he observed the state the men were in. The captain's eyes looked over the battered group and no doubt noticed the missing faces. Llorrin was itching to tell him about what the warlock had revealed about Daelin, but it wasn't his place to speak up, and if there was one thing he knew about his captain it was how seriously he took discipline and protocol.

"I didn't expect you back so soon" Adane told Carekon in an unusually diplomatic tone of voice.

"We were-" Irewyth started to explain, but she was cut off.

"I will hear your report when the time comes, hydromancess" the captain interrupted her.

"I sent out seven people, five of you return... but at least it seems like it was worth it. Some of the other search parties were less lucky" Adane said, observing the survivors they had brought.

"We lost Tyrek and Hodge" Carekon pointed out.

"I can see that" the captain answered him, clenching his teeth. His regret made him forget his courtesy for a moment. Adane remained in silence for a couple of seconds, his thoughts no doubt with the men he'd lost, before he turned around.

"Both of you, follow me to my cabin" the captain commanded, motioning for the mages to follow him. No one had any doubt who he meant, so Carekon and Irewyth quickly followed the captain back to the ship. He pointed out a nearby sergeant who was studying the progress on the palisade wall with a critical eye.

"You, see to those new arrivals. They are our guests."

The Stormbraver marines were more than happy to follow the sergeant, the prospect of food evoking cheers from quite a few of them. Llorrin regarded the captain's back as he walked away, Adane apparently disregarding him. His stomach sunk: he carried a horrible injury and chances were if Irewyth was going to deliver the report Adane wouldn't even learn of his part in their survival. Irewyth hadn't said a word on the way back and even steered clear of him. Llorrin had come to suspect she was frustrated her powers had failed her where he, as a normal marine, had succeeded.

Carekon was an honest fellow, but the way he told a story, chances were Adane would fall asleep before he finished his report. Llorrin suddenly realized how obvious he was making it he was staring at Irewyth's retreating form. Llorrin and Wheann's eyes crossed. They remained in silence when Adane suddenly called over his shoulder.

"You two get some rest. And Llorrin, have someone see to that wound. Injuries are no excuse for slacking off."

Part of Llorrin was happy he'd been acknowledged, but at the same time suddenly felt painfully aware of his wound, especially when the crewmen working around the camp started shooting him curious glances. His fingers grazed the bandages around the burn wound on his stomach as he looked down. The soaked bandages were stained and had stuck to his belly, becoming transparent against the charred surface of his skin.

_Come on guys, you've seen worse..._ Llorrin thought. He was almost grateful when Wheann caught him by the shoulder and started pulling him with him towards the largest tent that also stood closest to the shore, no doubt a supply tent. There was a big grin on the half-elf's face.

"They say the best thing to do when you're in pain..." he started, his grin growing even larger, "is drink."


	3. Denied

Llorrin stared at the half-empty bottle of rum in his hand. He had to remind himself he was sitting in the sand and not the deck of a ship, as the bottle constantly seemed to be enlarging and then shrinking back again before his eyes. The singing of the men around him seemed distant for more than one reason. How could he sit here, pretending to be having fun, when Daelin might very well be dead? He looked over the merry faces of the other marines gathered around the campfire. They had no idea what was going on in his mind. Many men had come to congratulate him and force him to recite versions of his fight against the warlock, which grew shorter after every time he repeated the tale.

Everyone wanted to see the orb he had gained from the fight. The recognition was something he had vied for all his life, but it couldn't replace the hollow feeling he held inside. Orders had been strict: as soon as Carekon and Irewyth had delivered their report, the rest of the marines had been ordered not to breathe a word about Daelin being dead to anyone. Captain Adane considered it good luck that the men had been wise enough to keep their mouths shut of their own accord long enough for him to give that order. Llorrin sighed. While he understood they couldn't afford morale to drop based on a rumour, it still felt wrong not to share it with the others. Daelin had been his admiral as well as theirs and the men were probably looking forward to rejoining him as much as he was, or rather, had been. The most difficult moment had come when a marine had congratulated him and claimed Daelin would have been proud of his achievement today. Llorrin would never know how he'd managed to keep a straight face through that.

_I deserve to be shot... or fed to the Silithids_ Llorrin thought bitterly.

Llorrin's dreamy eyes strayed up at the sky, finding the moon. The temperature had dropped severely during the night and the sea breeze now had a chilly edge to it. However, that was the least of his concerns. He stared back into the fire. _Burning Masters..._ he thought, wondering what abominations the warlock could have been referring to. Could the warlock's masters have somehow been connected to the unnatural storm that had scattered their fleet? No, that seemed like too much of a stretch. Still, he had the feeling they were only seeing the tip of the iceberg here.

After having witnessed the Silithids and the Sandfury trolls during daytime, Llorrin wondered what horrors the night would bring in this desolate country. Was this unholy creature-ridden place truly worth the presence of the Kul Tiras navy? They should have been at this city of Theramore the warlock had mentioned to stand by their admiral and died by his side if they had to, not rot away here and be doomed not to leave even the faintest mark on the pages of history.

_Maybe it's not true_ the young marine tried to tell himself yet again, his sense of logic immediately kicking in to combat that assessment.

He took another swig before giving those thoughts as much as a chance. The inside of his head began to feel even more warm and fuzzy and he quickly felt himself unable to worry about anything. _Wheann was right_ Llorrin thought as the rum set his throat on fire. It did dull the pain - both kinds - somewhat, but he knew his injuries and worries would still be there even long after the effects of the alcohol had passed. Llorrin's fingers grazed the soft bandages that had been applied around his stomach. The skin below was itchy and the cloth already humid, and he wished he could already have the bandages changed. Llorrin felt a hand on his shoulder and wondered what it was going to be, showing off the orb or telling the story of his fight with the warlock. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see it was Chuth. His body tensed, preparing for another fight, but then he realized Chuth hadn't come to brawl. There was a mix of admiration and fear in the gruff man's eyes, a look he had never seen with the sniper.

"Cap'n Adane wants ta see ya. He's waitin' for ya in his cabin" Chuth announced, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

That caught Llorrin with his pants down. It was the last thing he'd expected, and he wasn't in a state to go see the captain at all. Surely Carekon and Irewyth's reports should have provided him with enough information, unless...

"Now?" he asked with a thick tongue. He was surprised Chuth didn't grin at his predicament.

"Now" the sniper said with a nod.

As Llorrin pushed himself up he absently handed the bottle to Wheann, who had made the worst drinking partner ever. A few sips of rum, and the half-elf had been as drunk as ten men. It was a surprise he was still awake and drinking even more. Llorrin had just walked past Chuth when he felt the sniper's hand on his shoulder once again. Llorrin turned, wondering what was eating the guy. Chuth still had that strange look in his eyes and didn't speak his mind. They stared at each other for a couple of awkward moments until Chuth finally broke the silence.

"Listen' greeny, ya know I don't like ya, but I gotta admit, ye saved our skins out there."

Llorrin was knocked for six. Gratitude? Praise? From _Chuth_? Impossible. He wished he still had the bottle so he could check how much of that rum he had actually had. If he hadn't known better he would've thought Chuth was far more drunk than he was, but even in this state he knew that couldn't be. If there was one thing Llorrin would admit Chuth was better at than he was, it would be holding his ale.

"We all do what we can" Llorrin replied with a lazy grin, too baffled to come up with anything that made sense. He turned away quickly. Llorrin had enough on his mind without Chuth suddenly starting acting weird, like how he was going to sober up in the short time he had to make it to Adane's cabin. He wondered if it had been a certain kind of respect he'd seen in the sniper's eyes. He sighed, concluding that it couldn't have been anything else. It was strange how the danger and finally impending death they had faced during the course of the mission seemed to have brought them closer together while actually Llorrin would've expected Chuth to become even more self-centered under these dire circumstances.

_We'll just see how long it lasts_ he thought critically as he stumbled out of the pallisade, passing by the guards looking out over the shore. He thought he heard the men snicker behind his back, but didn't really care.

Llorrin's boots sunk deeply into the wet sand as he wobbled towards the edge of the beach. He tried to take deep breaths to get a clearer head, but the ship was getting closer faster than the effects of the alcohol were subsiding. A sloop was awaiting him in the water, and he hoped he wouldn't trip up and land in the water as he tried to climb into the boat. Somehow he didn't, but the marine steering the sloop gave him a suspicious look as he sank back and spread out his arms to his side, dropping his head back to stare at the sky that was spinning above him. The gentle waves were soothing and he felt strangely calm considering he was about to go see his captain in a drunken stupour, but the moment passed too soon. Before long they had reached _the Orcduster_, and a ladder was thrown down from the deck. When at first Llorrin didn't move the other marine nudged him with the spade impatiently, forcing him to get up.

_By the Light_ Llorrin thought. By now the entire world had begun to spin around him as he slowly rose to his feet on the boat. He heard the marine swear faintly and distantly as the boat began to rock under his clumsy movements.

_The next time that ladder passes by, I'll grab on to it_ Llorrin thought as the world kept spinning. He leaned forward and reached out for the ladder and breathed a sigh of relief when his hands caught onto it instead of grasping into nothingness. Llorrin knew the climb was going to be difficult in his current state so he decided to take a solid start. As he pushed himself up and off the boat he heard a cry and a splash behind him but nevertheless continued his way up undisturbed. The ladder ended up being shorter than he had first estimated it to be and the elite marines that had stayed behind to guard _the Orcduster_ were quick to help him up the last few feet. Llorrin thanked the armoured men with a big grin, but when they grumbled something and pointed at the captain's cabin his grin quickly faded. As the marines shook their heads at one another he walked slowly in the direction of the cabin.

_He's not going to be happy_ Llorrin thought, reaching out for the doorknob when a voice from the quarterdeck right above him stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Oh Llorrin!"

He looked up, only to see a waterfall of sea water bearing down on him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the salty water. He didn't cry out in protest, but instead found himself wondering what the hell had just happened. When he'd finished rubbing the water out of his eyes he looked up to see Irewyth towering over him. She had her arms crossed and was leaning on the quarterdeck's wooden balustrade. An empty bucket stood by her side.

"You looked like you needed that" she said, her smile reflecting the moonlight.

Llorrin sighed, shook his head and entered anyway, too tired and confused to say anything in return. _He_ was drunk, everyone _else_ was acting weird.

The cabin's warmth welcomed him. With his clothes wet as they were, Llorrin was happy to be out of the cold night air. He'd been here before, but not as many times as he would've liked. The inside of the small cabin was well-lighted by oil lamps, which gave him a clear view of the place he hoped he'd one day be able to call his own. _Perhaps by that time I'll have some trophies of my own to redecorate this place. Adane has horrible taste_ Llorrin thought as his eyes strayed over the skull of a defeated orc champion hanging from the wall.

Opposite from the skull was a painting depicting Kul Tiras which was flanked by a collection of military decorations Llorrin could only dream to have. He realized how much he missed home when the painting of Kul Tiras pulled his attention away from everything else. Llorrin's eyes narrowed a little when something caught his attention. Part of the paintjob looked odd: the colours were... _different_ somehow, they simply seemed... newer than the rest of the canvas. He wondered what had caused the change. It almost made him forget his actual reason for being here. Realizing he was getting distracted, Llorrin pulled his eyes away from the painting.

Captain Adane was sitting behind his desk, who was busy making measurements on what Llorrin assumed to be a map of the shore the search parties had charted up until now. At first glance, it didn't look like they'd been able to piece together a lot. Adane continued undisturbed, leaving Llorrin unsure what to do. Behind the captain were several shelves that contained books and maps, all of which Adane had no doubt had to study meticulously to become a captain. He quickly looked away from the shelves, spotting Adane's comfy-looking bed. Llorrin held back a yawn, suddenly painfully aware of how tired he was. Adane only looked up after what felt like an eternity had passed. The captain didn't say a word, but the question was written in his eyes.

"It was Irewyth, she-" Llorrin tried to explain, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, but Adane cut off his sentence with a dismissive wave of his hand and motioned for Llorrin to sit down. He quickly complied.

"Save it, Llorrin. There's enough on my mind already. I've been thinking for a long time, and I believe I have finally come to a decision" the captain announced.

Adane paused and went about studying the map again.

_Is that why you had me called for on this ungodly hour?_ Llorrin thought, but he wasn't so drunk he was going to say that out loud. Whatever Adane had decided, he hoped it would involve sailing back to make war on the orcs as soon as possible.

"I've decided to make you an officer" the captain suddenly said. When he saw the surprise and delight on Llorrin's face his eyes hardened.

"_Warrant _officer, that is. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself, and if you fail to effect the tasks given to you, someone else will take your place. Do you get me?"

Llorrin held back a grin as he saluted. "Yes, sir."

Then, the possible implications began to dawn on him. Being a warrant officer might not turn out to be as exciting as he would have hoped. Would he be made to guard supplies, keep track of the repairs being made to the ship? Would he be forced to stay on board while the rest of the crew roamed the wastes? Suddenly the idea of being promoted no longer seemed as attractive. Adane seemed to be able to read his mind, as had happened so many times before.

"Right now, I need someone to lead the search parties. Do well, and you _may_ be given a position of _actual_ responsibility on board. We'll also have to chart at least some of this desert before repairs are finished. After all, we may not be staying here for much longer."

Llorrin didn't dare ask if his captain was implying what he hoped he was implying.

"Sir?"

Adane's eyes were as hard and as dark as onyx. The captain was clearly as troubled as he was. Llorrin felt himself sober up quickly under those eyes.

"It's Daelin" he said briefly. The captain had been close friends with Admiral Proudmoore, it came as no surprise that he called him by his first name.

"If he truly is dead, we must follow his orders and return to continue his war against the Horde."

Llorrin's heart leapt, but his hope was quickly shattered by another piercing stare.

"However, we won't be making the same mistakes he did."

That left Llorrin momentarily speechless. Forgetting the Grand Admiral's title was one thing, but accusing Admiral Proudmoore of making mistakes was something different altogether. Captain Adane perceived his doubt.

"Half a fleet against an entire nation. Madness" the captain sighed, shaking his head.

"Madness?" Llorrin repeated. "You're speaking of Admiral Proudmoore!" he reminded him. For a mere moment the captain averted his eyes and actually looked slightly guilty.

"I fear his conviction may have clouded his judgement" Adane explained, raising his hand in between them like a shield. A few painful moments passed in between them.

"I know what you're thinking, because I feel the same" the captain finally said, dropping his hand to the table.

"You wanted to be there at his side. We were not, so there's no use in dwelling on that. We're still alive. We can avenge him."  
Llorrin's heartbeat rose.

"What are you planning?"

"We need to rally as many survivors as we can. We cannot abandon our task without Lieutenant Alverold's command, not while we don't have absolute certainty of Daelin's demise. At first light tomorrow, I shall send out more search parties. You, _warrant officer_, will lead one of those."  
For the first time Llorrin truly saw the age lined on his captain's face. It worried him.

"You are dismissed. Go and rest, Llorrin, you'll need your strength tomorrow. That's an order."

"Sir."

Llorrin got up and saluted before departing, but he didn't follow his captain's commands immediately. He first looked up warily at the quarterdeck, halfway expecting Irewyth to have readied another bucket for him, and then looked at the guards to see if they were paying attention to him. They weren't: the men patrolling the deck were instead looking out across the sea. He quickly and silently ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck, finding Irewyth standing there alone at the far side of the ship.

She was even more beautiful in the relative darkness, with moonlight spilling onto her skin, which made her stand out like a diamond among a pile of rocks. Irewyth was staring out across the sea like the rest of the guards, a seldom calm look set in her eyes. Even in the dark of the night he thought he caught the same longing on her face he had felt ever since he'd heard about Daelin. Llorrin slowed down as he approached her, and of course the Hydromancess noticed him well before he ever reached her. A sharp breeze made his wet skin tingle, but he didn't shiver even when she set her eyes on him. Although those sea-coloured eyes seemed calm now, he knew they could erupt into a storm at any moment.

"Irewyth... I wanted to thank you" he said almost formally.

She snickered and looked away.

"For pouring a bucket of water over you?"

"You know what I'm on about" Llorrin said with a voice that betrayed he wasn't willing to play any games.

"Oh. So he told you, didn't he?"

Llorrin felt he was treading on thin ice. He was only guessing she had vouched for him, after all. Nevertheless it was too late to turn back now.

"No, but it wasn't too hard to figure out. I'll never believe Carekon could have delivered the report in a way that would convince the captain to promote me."

Irewyth frowned a little and looked away. The memory of Llorrin's success where she had failed still seemed to bother her, or was it something else?

"I merely told the truth" she shrugged, then changed the subject. "Why are you here?"  
Now it was Llorrin's turn to shrug.

"I just wanted to say thanks" he said casually.

Irewyth studied his face thoroughly for a couple of moments.

"Just wanted to say thanks eh?" the Hydromancess repeated with a raised eyebrow, her voice dripping with disbelief. Llorrin smiled slightly. It was likely the alcohol was making him audacious, but he didn't mind either way.

"Well-" he said, taking another step forward, but Irewyth extended a hand towards his chest and held him at arm's length.

"Hush" she said. "You know I don't mind you, Llorrin-"

_Do you now? You haven't done much to show it_ Llorrin thought. It was a nice lie, but not one he could convince himself to believe for more than a second even if he wanted to.

"- but it shouldn't surprise you I would prefer someone like _Wheann_."

Llorrin frowned. _Wheann._ He should've known. _But if she likes him better, why recommend me for command?_

"Because he's an elf?" he guessed, his words coming out harder than he had meant them to. Nevertheless he felt no regret.

Irewyth smirked and dropped her hand from his chest as she broke contact with his fierce eyes.

"_Half_ an elf, at least. I always wanted to marry one, you know, back when I was studying in Dalaran, but that quickly became impossible when Prince Arthas destroyed the city and delivered it to the Scourge. We were forced to flee, and those elves that survived became weird, distant... To history us humans are just leaves in the wind. I realized it that day more than any other. My children need to live long enough to carry on my legacy. A _proper_ legacy."

Her calculated calm was aggravating. In Llorrin's experience, many humans were jealous of half-elves' extended life spans. While he otherwise wouldn't approve of such a way of thinking, he'd have preferred Irewyth to fall in line for this once. Either she didn't notice his irritation, or she didn't care. _Probably the latter._ His face must have showed the way he felt about what she'd just said, because she made as close to an apologetic face as he'd ever seen from her. It wasn't enough.

"It's this thing with races, Llorrin. _You_ do it as well. You hate all orcs by default, and _I_ don't want to marry any human, _by default_" she explained.

That had to be the most obnoxious thing Llorrin had ever heard. He could tell she actually believed she was being rational, which made it worse. Her earlier insults towards Admiral Proudmoore or the great Anduin Lothar - both of which had definitely been more than 'leaves in the wind' - notwithstanding, comparing his atittude towards orcs - which was built on far graver motivations - to her purely egoistical attitude was more than just a slap in the face. Suddenly it dawned on him how cold he was. Irewyth put a finger on his lips before he could say anything.

"It's nothing personal" she entrusted him, and he had a feeling she meant it, but that did little to stop the bleeding.

Unable to say anything else, Llorrin sighed in frustration and turned away, making haste to descend the stairs down to the main deck. He had just reached the last few steps when he heard her voice once again.

"Oh Llorrin."

He didn't stop immediately, only stopping to look over his shoulder when he had reached the bottom of the stairs. Llorrin wondered what more she could possibly have to say.

"Thanks for saving my life" Irewyth said with a thin smile.

Llorrin sighed again. _Words are meaningless_ he thought bitterly as he started his way back towards the camp. There was a long day ahead of him, and a short, uncomfortable night.


	4. Shallow Hope

Elduin soared among the clouds. The air he breathed was clean and the fresh, salty smell of the blue sea below invigorated him, which made a nice change from the orc-infested and demon-tainted woods of Ashenvale. Weeks had passed with almost no sign of the fleet he was supposed to find. Elduin was beginning to fear the storm caused by the Shattering had swallowed them all, like it had drowned the Kul Tiras marines at Tiragarde Keep, the keep Ishrien had claimed to have first heard of this fleet. _Tiragarde 'Keep'_ he thought bitterly. _Tiragarde Ruin would be a more fitting name._

The Theramore garrison that had taken command of the empty ruin had been helpful enough, but the information they had given hadn't been to his liking either way. Elduin hadn't stayed long enough to allow them to ask him questions about his business with Lieutenant Alverold's fleet or further crush his hopes of ever finding them into the ground. _This_, this task, was the last thing he had left. It was Ishrien's final wish, and the reason he hadn't stood by her side in her final moments. Against such numbers the only alternative would have been death, but that thought didn't soothe his conscience one bit.

_Ishrien._ Angry whispers made the name echo in his head, each resonance pounding into his skull like a hammer. He hadn't looked back, not even once, and had allowed the spirits to scream inside his mind to drown out any sound as he flew up against the hillside, but the haunting image of Ishrien's face moments before her death which his mind had formed of its own accord was still etched into his brain, and it wouldn't let go. It probably never would.

He reached out for the spirits again, but they, who were supposed to act as his eyes and ears when he had need of knowledge beyond his own reach, again refused to answer. It was highly unusual for the spirits to be so quiet, but he didn't let it dampen his conviction. Just as Elduin was considering changing his approach and start looking for any settlements Alverold's men may have built on the shores rather than look for ships in the vastness of the ocean he spotted a cove on the horizon.

The tiny patch of land was probably too small to appear on any but the most detailed of maps, but to the druid, it would suffice. It was about time to rest and he probably wouldn't find anywhere else to land any time soon, so Elduin let his wings carry him to it.

As soon as he reached it Elduin descended sharply, landing heavily on his outstretched talons. Threads of magic swirled around him violently as he returned to his night elf shape, that of a weary and troubled, but determined druid. He was standing on a tiny patch of land, which quickly gave way to the large overhanging rock that formed the entrance of the cove. Now that he'd gotten closer he noticed the cove was actually huge, large enough to fit a giant. His amber eyes looked into the darkness, and he slowly stepped into it. Like every other night elf, Elduin did not fear the darkness. The Goddess had made it their home, and his eyes pierced the black veil effortlessly. A black cloak seemed to wrap itself around him as he stepped forward.

_If only it'd been this dark when we tried to make our escape… We must have missed nightfall by a few minutes at most_ Elduin thought regretfully. This thought had only come to him the night after he had lost Ishrien: he'd been too busy minding the orcs to pay attention to the time of day.

As he walked deeper into the pitch black darkness, Elduin quickly found himself knee deep in the water once again. _There must be another entrance that allows the sea in_ he concluded. As he waded forward slowly, Elduin let his eyes stray over the walls, eyeing the rocky surface closely. _This cove must have been much higher above the sea level before the Shattering_ Elduin thought. All he wanted was to find a dry spot to rest, away from the wind and any prying eyes.

When he noticed the cove expanded in two directions Elduin chose the right path, which seemed the most promising to him. It was brighter than the left path, and he was soon proven right as he saw the second cave opening at the far end of the path he was taking. He smelled something, and quickened his pace. It couldn't be. Here, of all places? As he walked into the water up to his middle he noticed there was flotsam all around him. _Oh no_ Elduin thought. There was a large hollow outcropping in the rock to his left that ascended slightly, meaning it might very well lead to a dry spot. He believed this was also the place the smell he thought he'd recognized came from.

The corridor was narrower than the main ones had been, and as he looked up, he noticed there were small plateaus that looked like they had been dug out by giant hands. Elduin could only hope they were the result of natural erosion. Faint groans coming from above broke him out of his thoughts. He'd been right after all. Unless his ears betrayed him, those were human voices. Elduin briefly transformed to fly up to the ledge, and as he landed he was met with a surprising sight.

_Marines!_ Elduin thought as he transformed back, unable to tell whether he should be happy he had finally found some of them or be appalled by the state they were in. The description he'd been given by the soldiers at Tiragarde Keep fitted the men well. Though many uniforms were ripped and torn and all were dirty, the green colour he'd been told to look for and the anchor sigils on their tabards were unmistakable. As surprising as the marine's presence alone was, the guy who jumped up and ran at him with a raised fist and a crazed look in his eyes was even more surprising. Too late did Elduin consider these men might have never seen a shape shifter before. He would have stepped back, but there was no space. A void was all that awaited him if he retreated.

Of course, there was no need for that. Like his companions, the human was in bad shape, which made him slow and clumsy. Elduin caught the marine's fist in his hand, forced it down and shifted his body while moving out of the way of the man's charge. He gripped his staff more tightly as he raised it up at the marine. The crazed man's momentum caused him to crash face first into the staff, and he quickly slumped down, unconscious. Elduin sighed aggravatedly and stepped over the fallen marine, checking for a moment to see if he hadn't hit the man too hard. Elduin was relieved to find the man was still alive. He didn't exactly consider restraint among his major talents.

"Listen to me if you want to survive" the druid commanded, aware of their possible reluctance to trust an unknown race. His eyes passed from the one man to the other. There were about a dozen of them, and many of them were on the ground. All were looking exhausted and sick. Their skin was pale, their eyes hollow, and most were unhealthily thin.

"All you have to know is that I am Elduin of the Night Elves, and I carry no ill will towards you. Answer my questions and you may get out of here alive. Were you men part of Lieutenant Alverold's expedition?"

No one answered. It was only then that he realized a couple of the men were either asleep or dead, and some looked as crazed as the one who had attacked him and didn't seem to be seeing the same thing he was. He frowned at the sight of a man who was oblivious to his presence, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chin and rocking back and forth while giggling to himself madly. Elduin sighed and knelt down by the most healthy-looking marine. His patience spent, he grabbed the man by the collar and shook him a little. When that didn't help he reached for the flask on his hip, unscrewed the top and put it to the man's lips. Elduin felt bad wasting even a drop of the precious potion on someone who was likely to die anyway, but he had no other choice.

"Well? Answer me!" Elduin insisted.

The marine nodded weakly.

"What happened to you men? Or the fleet?"

"Storm… the storm… We took a sloop… Didn't get far…" The marine's eyes strayed towards the bottle. "Please…"

Elduin let him have another sip. He hoped he wasn't wasting precious supplies. He sighed. Even if he could somehow find help for these men, they would probably not make it long enough for him to return with aid. Considering how much time had passed since the Shattering, they could have been here for weeks. Elduin rose to his feet and raised his staff, beginning to channel one of his most powerful spells: Tranquility. The direct area around the druid began to glitter, streaks of green seemingly falling out of thin air like waves of minuscule leaves in autumn. Injuries gradually began to disappear and eyes opened as men were suddenly rejuvenated. Elduin hoped none of the men would attack him right now, as he couldn't possibly channel this spell while at the same time protecting himself.

Only a few moments into the spell, the cavern suddenly shook however, violently, and briefly. Loose rocks and debris plummeted down into the water below. Elduin looked down, and saw the surface of the water begin to ripple. There was another shock, and the ripples became more violent. The marines began to shake with fear.

"He's coming" the closest man said, pressing his eyes shut and writhing on the ground.

"Who's coming?" Elduin inquired. He had a vague idea of what it might be, but he'd rather not take any chances.

"The… the…" the man stammered, apparently too scared to speak.

"Stay here, I will return" Elduin promised the marine, transforming back into his Storm Crow form.

He sped out of the side cave, because he didn't want whatever it was his magic had attracted to cut off his escape route. Below him the water was beginning to splash more and more violently against the sides of the cave with each step the approaching being took. Then he passed the exit of the cave and he saw it. A huge creature was taking lumbering steps towards him. The creature looked drowsy, but he wasn't sure whether that was because he had just woken up or whether it was just his normal expression. Elduin hadn't seen a Sea Giant for too long to tell. What he did remember was that they were savage-looking, and that hadn't changed in the long years since he had witnessed them for the last time. His thick teal scales glimmered even in the faint light that seeped into this part of the cavern. Seaweed hung from the creature's body and had become entangled in the giant's rough green beard. He walked on humongous three-toed, webbed feet, and his hands possessed webs as well. Though he looked slow now, Elduin knew better than to underestimate the creature.

The druid stopped at the edge of the cave and revealed his human form, hoping the Sea Giant was of the type that still spoke Darnassian, the language of the Night Elves, or at least some form of Low Common. He was wary, however. In Ancient times the Titans had called upon these Giants to aid in the creation of Azeroth, and the Sea Giants had mostly done the task of creating the Surface World. If the corruption the demonic Burning Legion had put on Ashenvale had turned so many of the local creatures feral, who could tell what the Shattering had done to these Giants? For all Elduin knew, the sea giant may have very well been driven mad.

"Ishnu-dal-dieb, friend of the Titans" Elduin called out, his powerful voice echoing through the cave.

To his relief, the Sea Giant stopped, only now seeming to notice him for the first time. His nose was comparatively big for his face and he made a strange gurgling sound as he sniffed up the air, while his yellow eyes – which were small compared to the rest of his head – looked at Elduin warily. The Giant blinked several times, as if he was trying to remember the meaning of Elduin's words. Deciding not to wait out the giant's reaction, Elduin called out again.

"I am a Druid of the Talon the Kaldorei, the Night Elves, I mean you no harm. I have business with the humans you captured. They are my allies, friends I need to rally against a common enemy."

The Sea Giant frowned and remained silent for a short while, but then his face twisted and he rapidly produced several low grunting sounds. It took Elduin a few moments to realize the giant was laughing. The creature's impossibly deep voice rose up from his belly like a brewing storm.

"They no friends" he told Elduin in a demeaning voice.

"I assure you, friend, if you knew what I did you would want them set free was well" Elduin tried.

The giant seemed unimpressed and kept drawing closer.

"And what you have to offer me?"

When Elduin failed to answer that immediately the Sea Giant took a violent step forward, one faster than the previous.

"They defile seas!" the Giant bellowed, his hands striking through the water. The cavern shook as his foot came down again, sending a wave rippling away from him.

"They build on shores, drive Giants away!"

His powerful hand broke a rock out of the soil and threw it at Elduin, who used an added burst of air to jump to the side, evading the rock narrowly. The turbulent waters splashed up high as the Sea Giant broke into a charge. He gurgled roaringly as he drew closer. Elduin's patience had ended. He transformed into his Storm Crow form and flew straight for the Giant, who stopped at the sight of Elduin coming towards him. Flying past grasping hands, the druid avoided being squashed like a bug, and flew out of the caves.

"They call wrath Sea King!" the monster's booming voice followed him out of the caves, but Elduin paid no heed to such nonsense. This discovery meant he was getting close to his goal, and he wasn't going to let some lumbering oaf's primitive beliefs stop him.

_Even if I can defeat him, I'll never get those men out of there on my own. There must be more of them around, somewhere, or ships sent out to look for them…_ Elduin thought, but it was only shallow hope. If a member of his now deceased party had gone missing, the troop would do everything in their power to find them back. He didn't know for what sinister purpose the Sea Giant could have possibly kept the men alive so far eluded him, but he only hoped in his anger, the Giant wouldn't take to squashing them all before he could return.

_Spirits, guide me_ Elduin thought, and for the first time in months, his call was answered.


	5. Total Annihilation

The quarterdeck was easily the loneliest place on the ship at this time of day. Hardly anyone ever came there, unless you chose to count the strange company he found himself in. Llorrin stared back into the eyes of the unusually large crow sitting on the railing, only a few feet away from him. He had the impression he caught a certain intelligence in the bird's eyes. Llorrin shook his head. He was likely simply imagining things. He felt if nothing happened soon, he would probably go insane.

They had picked up a lot of survivors in the desert over the course of the last couple of weeks and half a dozen ships had even found their way to Captain Adane's camp. The fortified camp, now known as Adane's Hold, had been expanding daily, but this search out on the sea had so far proven fruitless, at least for him. Surely anyone stranded out here should have been dead by this time.

Being given command of a frigate had felt like a great honour at first, but Llorrin was gradually coming to regret it. The sea hadn't proven at all as exciting as the land. Everything Adane did on board had always seemed so simple, but now that Llorrin found himself in the captain's shoes he was at a loss. His eyes drifted up towards the crow's nest, but the crewman posted there seemed as bored as he was. The lack of action was getting them all down. And then, there was Jeredan.

The crusader announced himself with an aggravated sigh. He'd proven to be a vicious asset to Llorrin's search party and he'd been initially grateful that they had found him in the desert, but Llorrin had figured out the crusader possessed a short memory sooner than he would have liked. Any humour Jeredan had previously possessed had must have died in the long weeks he'd been caught alone in the desert with no one but the Sandfury trolls and the Silithids for company.

Llorrin couldn't say he envied the man's fate, but Jeredan nevertheless made awful company. To a degree Llorrin could understand the crusader. The black-armoured crusaders were elite knights that had joined Daelin's fleet right before it had set out after the Horde. They saw the Grand Admiral's quest as an opportunity for glory and mostly to get back at some orcs. Their ranks were mostly composed of men who had lost everything to the Horde, and had nothing left but their lust for vengeance.

Six years is a long time for a man to wait, and from what Llorrin had gathered, Jeredan had had a very good reason to follow the Horde to Kalimdor. Apparently he dated his ancestry back to the Kingdom of Stormwind, the first Kingdom to have fallen to the Horde when the orcs had spilled out of the Dark Portal from their wretched world of Draenor. Llorrin could understand that, now that Adane had made the rumours of Daelin's death public Jeredan wanted nothing more than to go and fight the Horde – hell, Llorrin probably felt the same - he simply wished it wasn't him who had to constantly hear the man's incessant complaints.

"We should be going back. I've had it with counting fish" Jeredan said in a soft voice. He always spoke quietly, which gave his voice an eerie edge. The crusader struck lazily at the crow Llorrin had been staring at moments prior. The fowl sqwuawked as it quickly flew out of his reach.

Unwilling to have this conversation again, Llorrin changed the subject. He stole a glance at the Jeredan's battle-hardened face as he tried to think of something to say. The warrior's azure eyes were cold as ice and his slick, shoulder-length hair as black as the night. He was probably just shy of a decade older than Llorrin, but the blessing of youth hadn't entirely faded from him yet. No doubt the warrior's life he lived had kept him in shape.

There were rumours that Jeredan had hunted orcs of his own accord even after the orcs had lost the Second War and been put into internment camps. When asked about that Jeredan tended to remark the orcs should have been exterminated to the last when they had the chance, so Llorrin decided not to go there, and looked for something else. The crusader bore several small scars on his face and upper arms, but the most unusual ones were those right below his left eye. There were several diagonal cuts there that didn't look like they could've come from battle. Indeed, they almost looked like they had been made on purpose.

"Where'd you get those scars on your face?" Llorrin inquired, uncaring that his question was so audacious. Jeredan wasn't exactly the most considerate person himself and he was willing to take a risk to avoid hearing his complaints. The reply was short and gruff.

"Battle."

Llorrin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I asked _where_, not how."

He was probably pushing this further than was advisable, but by this point Llorrin had become genuinely interested. He didn't waver as the tall man looked down at him and brought a hand up to push his hair out of the way and put his index below the scars. He traced each of them with his fingers slowly.

"They're markings. One for every orc champion I've killed."

"I see."

Llorrin didn't know whether he had to admire that or denounce it as very primitive. It was almost… orc-like. All of a sudden Jeredan pushed him against the chest briskly, forcing him back and creating some more space in between them.

"I'm wasting away here. What about you?" Jeredan inquired, reaching for the large two-hander on his back. Llorrin wondered whether he'd angered the crusader with his questions or if he genuinely just wanted to spar because he was bored. _Maybe both_ he concluded.

"Prepare yourself. You'd better hope that magical sword of yours is as good as everyone thinks it is" the crusader spoke, unsheathing his blade. Llorrin didn't care to explain the orb was the only magical thing about his sword and quickly reached for his cutlass, but as soon as Jeredan had started forward, he stopped again.

"What the hell is _that_?" he asked.

Llorrin hesitated for a moment, but then followed Jeredan's gaze to his left, where from a cloud of mist a man - no, not quite a man, but something similar – arose. The humanoid looked somewhat like an elf, but the purple skin was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. He looked like a more savage, tribal type of elf, if that was indeed what he was.

Before anyone could speak Jeredan had already turned on the newcomer instead, charging and swinging his sword at him. The peculiar elf looked tall and strong and was able to evade the first few strokes, but was nevertheless driven back across the deck. It didn't take an experienced eye to see that he would soon get hit if it carried on like this.

_He's not fighting back!_ Llorrin realized.

"Stand down! Stand down, Jeredan!" he shouted, hoping his voice would come through to the fiery warrior.

Miraculously, the crusader chose to follow his orders. He lowered his sword, but kept his eyes locked on the druid, who didn't seem like he was about to let his guard down either. Men attracted by the commotion were quickly gathering at the foot of the quarterdeck. Llorrin quickly sent them back to their task, confident he could handle this situation. At least, he was confident that was what was expected of him. Llorrin approached the strange elf and pushed against Jeredan's armour-plastered chest with his right hand. When the crusader refused to move he pushed a little harder, and finally the orc hunter stepped back. The two-hander however remained in his hands. Llorrin placed himself in between the stranger and addressed the elf, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake.

"Do you speak our language?" he found himself saying. The elf nodded.

"I am Elduin Silverleaf, a druid of the Kaldorei, or Night Elves, as your people prefer to call us."

That caught Llorrin's interest.

"You've met humans before?"

"I've had the honour of fighting alongside your people on several occasions" the druid entrusted him with a cordial nod.

That was just too much. They must have missed out on more than they could ever imagine in the long time they'd been gone. Llorrin rubbed his eyes wearily. Behind him he heard Jeredan express his disbelief, in no uncertain terms.

"We stood together against the enemies of all who live, at the Battle of Mount Hyal" Elduin said, disregarding the crusader.

Llorrin dropped his hand from his face. "The orcs?"

The druid shook his head slowly, and Llorrin caught a twinkle in his eye.

"The Burning Legion. They are a Demonic army that engineered the destruction of your homeland through the use of the Lich King and the Scourge. However, by now their threat has been mostly contained. I would agree the orcs are our true enemy now. I stood together with your kind against them as well."

"_Our_ true enemy? Who is this 'we'?" Jeredan scoffed. He sounded insulted.

"Wait… You don't mean to say Kul Tiras too was destroyed?" Llorrin asked the druid, too captivated by the night elf's tale to care about Jeredan. Countless questions were running through his head.

"Lordaeron is lost to the Scourge. I have witnessed it with my own eyes" the Druid sighed regretfully. "I have heard nothing about your island nation being destroyed, however."

Jeredan moved up beside Llorrin, a frown upon his brow.

"Why are you here? To tell us fairy tales?"

"I am here to aid you. A number of your companions have been captured by a Sea Giant in a cove not far from here. With your aid, we may yet save them."

Jeredan couldn't have made his disbelief any more clear.

"Aid us? What reason does _he_ have to aid us? I say we cut off his head. He's likely to be some kind of native, willing to lure us into a trap."

"He knows too much, too much to be a simple native" Llorrin answered his skeptical companion, his eyes never leaving the druid's. The night elf seemed faithful. That was partially a relief, but it also meant men _were_ genuinely at risk, probably not far from here.

"Even if he's speaking the truth, do you really want to go up against a _Sea Giant_ with only one ship?"

"We've faced them before and survived" Llorrin said stubbornly. It wasn't like Jeredan to back away from a fight, it seemed more likely to him the crusader simply didn't care _if_ there were men being held prisoner by one. There was only one thing Jeredan seemed to care about, and it wasn't killing a species other than the orcs.

"Not without taking heavy losses" Jeredan growled.

"We also killed quite a few, and this one doesn't have to be one of the larger specimens" Llorrin retorted.

"He's not" Elduin added his two coppers.

"Bloody giants. They should all be killed" Jeredan said, realizing he'd made a mistake right after he was done speaking.

"We can agree on at least that then" Llorrin said with a forced smile. He wasn't as convinced as Jeredan was, but still he couldn't say he liked those hulking behemoths. If there was any race that had tried to thwart their exploration of Kalimdor, it would've been the Sea Giants.

"If we're not going to take a risk to save our companions, then what are we doing here in the first place?" Llorrin reprimanded the aggressive warrior, who was clenching his fists and seemed to want to do nothing more than to use them on the night elf. Under Llorrin's piercing stare, Jeredan finally grumbled and left.

"Have you met any others like us? Kul Tiras marines, I mean?" Llorrin asked Elduin, hoping he had.

"There were none battling the Horde at Ashenvale, I'm afraid your fleet was destroyed earlier. An… accomplice of mine learned from a band of survivors that there were more Kul Tiras forces who had to be informed of your leader's demise, which is why I chose to seek you out."

Llorrin felt hollow inside. So they were truly on their own then.

"So it's true then" he said, his voice as dead as his heart. "I've heard a similar tale from a renegade orc warlock we ran into."

When he struggled to say anything else, the Night Elf put a hand on his shoulder.

"Do not despair, young warrior. A portion of your admiral's army may have survived and resides at the city of Theramore. Surely they will flock to your cause once again when your ships return."

_All five of them?_ Llorrin thought bitterly, aware the forces they had left were nothing in the face of the Horde.

Llorrin turned away to hide the sadness on his face and walked to the other side of the quarterdeck, the druid fast on his heels.

He felt anger towards the remaining humans rise for reasons he could not express. "Who's leading them? Is it Jaina?"

"The leader of the humans of Theramore is indeed one Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of your deceased Admiral. I'm afraid she does not carry the same conviction her father did. For a while now, she has kept a truce with the Horde in order. Needless to say, this truce is built on weak foundations and not honoured by all, but Jaina still refuses to wage open war against the Horde no matter how many times they raid her positions."

Llorrin stopped. This was madness.

"But why wouldn't she continue the war against the orcs? They killed her father!" he exclaimed. "Why wait for us?"

Elduin shrugged. It was clear to Llorrin he'd been wanting to hide something.

"The Horde briefly allied itself to my people, as well as Jaina's - even though the Horde had killed many of her men - to stand together against the Burning Legion. She still has faith in that pact, even though the orcs have done nothing to honour it. She is unable to accept how treacherous their kind is. To make matters worse, the Horde is now led by an even far worse brute than before."

Llorrin scowled in disgust. Humans siding with orcs? That was just too mad for words.

"I'm sure they only did it to save their own skins" he dismissed the thought hatefully.

"Your Admiral understood this too, boy, I see you carry the same mindset" the druid said approvingly.

Llorrin was about to remark on the stranger calling him boy when something came to mind, an inconsistency in Elduin's tale.

"Wait, if Jaina refused to break the truce, then who helped you at Ashenvale? You implied there were other humans there."

"The king of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn. His lands have not yet fallen to the Scourge."

_Jeredan would love to hear that_ Llorrin thought, looking around and spotting Jeredan to his left. The crusader was still listening in on their conversation. He looked as skeptical as ever, but he also displayed a certain interest now that Stormwind had been mentioned.

"Varian, too, however, has been willing to negotiate with the orcs in past times, which has lead to many of your comrade's deaths. I will spare you the details of this deceit" Elduin quickly added.

Llorrin raised an eyebrow. Stormwind, too? Was everyone but the Kul Tiras fleet going _insane_?

"It's not difficult to imagine the Horde betraying good humans at every chance they get. I can imagine quite a bit" Llorrin told Elduin, nodding. He stared out across the ocean, wishing the wind would blow him straight to the Horde's doorstep. The druid's voice was the only thing that kept his mind from drifting off towards images of glorious battle against those murderers.

"Suffice it to say that, despite his aid in our victory, I saw Varian for what he really was too weak of character, and unfit to lead your people against the Horde in the long run. He appeared gripped by a strange curse to me, verily, the King seemed more beast than man to my eyes."

"It's nice hearing that from a shapeshifter" Jeredan said sarcastically. "You'd do well to mind your tongue when speaking of my king, druid" the warrior threatened Elduin, who ignored him.

"The only cure for the curse that is the Horde, is total annihilation, as your deceased admiral had planned for them. My followers and I agreed on this as well, but now that I'm the only one left, I've come to seek your help."

_Total annihilation. I like the sound of that_ Llorrin admitted to himself, his thoughts fed by his anger. _Although, perhaps…_

His trail of thought was interrupted by the druid's voice once again.

"I think you should also know the Horde has been willing to consort with the undead to make war upon the country of Gilneas."

That left Llorrin appalled. "What?! Then they've sunk even lower than I ever deemed possible!" he shouted.

"The Horde has ways to surprise everyone, young one. I thought you claimed you could imagine quite a bit."

"We should've killed them all the first time they were defeated" Jeredan growled as he pushed himself off the railing.

"I wish for nothing else but to return to Theramore and fight the Horde, Elduin, but I can't decide that for myself. My superiors will have to give the order. Even though I would vouch for you, they might think you are simply a native trying to deceive us or halt our exploration of what they would assume are your lands. Some of my comrades can be somewhat… close-minded" Llorrin explained, trying hard not to look at Jeredan.

"Perhaps, if we save the men I told you about, it will help me gain your friends' trust?" the druid offered.

Lorrin sighed. Even though he'd wished with all his heart something would finally _happen_ mere minutes earlier, he wasn't sure if he liked _this_. Many captains had frowned when Adane had put him in command, claiming 'a more experienced hand was needed', but Adane hadn't let them sway his opinion of him. By being so impulsive and brash in his decisions, wouldn't he be doing exactly what the captains had warned Adane about?

_To hell with them_ Llorrin thought. _It's that kind of prudence that got us stuck on this expedition in the first place._

He felt his mind was almost made up, but still... If accepting the druid's offer led to disaster, Llorrin wouldn't be the only one to suffer. No doubt captain Adane would be held accountable for putting him in command in the first place. That, the picture in his mind of the other captains' gloating faces when they would hear he had failed, and even worse, Adane's reaction, worried him more than his own fate if he made the wrong choice. Not for the first time since he'd been given command of this vessel he found men impatiently awaiting his decision, men whose lives were in his hands now.

"I'm taking a risk trusting you myself, Elduin, but so be it. Jeredan, order the men to set a course following the druid's directions. I need to think" he finally said, hoping he appeared more confident than he really was..

With a suspicious glance in Elduin's direction Jeredan went about his task, followed closely by the druid. Llorrin's head was pounding with the overflow of information he had just received. He hated the Horde with his entire being, but still he wondered if the annihilation of their entire species was something he could bring himself to desire. It was the threat they represented he hated more than anything… Even Daelin had not rallied the armies of Kul Tiras during the time where the orcs had been put in internment camps and had appeared to have been pacified... Apparently, that had proven to be a mistake in the end, but still…

_Focus on the present_ Llorrin decided, focusing his thoughts on the mission ahead. Every second counted.

Elduin stared back into the eyes of the Sea Giant. Even in the darkness of the cove, the creature's eyes shone bright. Elduin felt his heart pounding in his throat. Even though he was confident in his abilities, this was going to be a hard fight, and his allies' capabilities were doubtful at best.

_I have to make this right_ Elduin thought, gripping his staff more tightly. _I may not get another chance at winning their trust._  
"You return" the Giant said slowly. He made the grunting noise from before which Elduin now recognized as a laugh. "Druid not wise. This time you no escape."

Elduin's eyes pierced the darkness as easily as they did the light, and he saw humongous arms being drawn back and thrown forward again. Elduin heard a great rumbling sound. Moments later, a huge wave spilled into the cave from behind the Giant, filling it with water from top to bottom. Elduin wasted not a moment: he jumped out of the water, quickly transforming into his storm crow form. Even though he flew as fast as he could, he could feel the wave behind him drawing closer even as he passed the corner, the water threatening to overcome and swallow him. Small droplets already rained down on his wings, making them heavier and making it difficult to fly. He had to act, or he wasn't going to make it. Elduin manipulated the wind and began to spiral as he caught his own body in a cyclone that blew him to the exit, giving him the edge of speed he needed.

The wave overcame the tiny beach outside the intrance as he flew out, quickly pulling himself to a safer altitude. The sea was still stirring violently when the sea giant emerged from the opening, stopping to spot Elduin. In his hand a huge sword with an anchor-like edge was clenched, and he raised it to the sky as he shouted.

"You came back to run away?"

If Elduin could have snickered in this form, he would have. He didn't wait for whatever the giant was going to do. From his feathers thousands of minuscule sparkles of vibrant violent light flew, the magic cloud quickly expanding in size as it was carried towards the giant, who cried out in surprise as he was engulfed by the magic. The particles were too small to tell, but the light was created by countless fairies, whose touch made the tough giant's scales as soft as pudding. His screams of anger were quickly drowned out by another sound. The rumbling of the human's cannons was like music to Elduin's ears. The sea giant roared as several cannonballs smashed into him. His blood coloured the water around him red.

The giant wobbled in the water as though he was going to fall. That hope was crushed when he, screaming in anger, regained his balance. The wounded giant's eyes found the source of his pain: a human frigate floating in the waters to his right. Elduin was forgotten as he charged towards the easier target. Musket and pistol shots blasted into his faerie-tainted skin, but it did little to slow him down.

Leaving the beach, the behemoth dove with a surprising elegance for a creature his size. On board the ship men screamed in panic as the vessel began to rock back and forth on the violent waves he created.

Screaming out his vengeance, the sea giant dove up in front of the boat, easily keeping himself afloat. His blood still spilled into the sea, but his injuries seemed to anger him more than anything. The giant lifted the anchor-like blade up and then brought down on the frigate with terrible force. Men screamed as part of the mast was snapped and crashed down on the deck. The giant blade continued its way down and pushed the ship deeper down into the water as it came to a stop, but it dealt no further damage. Something was stopping the sword.

"Come on, push harder, you big sack of shit" Jeredan taunted the sea giant as he pushed his sword up behind his back, his armoured arm providing extra support. The sea giant grumbled incomprehensibly in his own tongue, unable to cope with the fact this human was withstanding his strength. With a garbled cry he pulled back his sword, trying to use the anchor-like edge to decapitate the crusader. The two blades screeched against each other with a sound that was painful to the ears, but Jeredan merely scoffed and ducked under the weapon. Crying out, he jumped up again immediately and swung his blade up in an arc, hitting the giant sword from below and forcing it up. The sea giant roared again, drawing his sword back to his side for a horizontal swing which he hoped would knock the armoured crusader off board and to his death. It never came.

Elduin landed on the giant's face in his night elf form, driving his staff down on the sea giant's head and hitting him right in between the eyes. A purple sphere exploded outward from the staff, hitting the giant at point blank range. It wasn't enough to finish him, but it sent him staggering backwards away from the ship.

"Fire!" Elduin made Llorrin's voice out between the sea giant's angry roars, and it hit him how young he still sounded. The cannons and guns spoke again. Elduin swung himself around and slipped down, holding on to the giant's hair and using his head for cover as he felt the creature's body shake and convulse beneath his feet. All life abandoned the giant. It was done. The faerie fire disappeared from the dead body like snow for the sun as the giant began to topple backwards. Elduin used him as leverage even as some final spasms went through the corpse. He pushed himself off and sailed elegantly through the air towards the frigate's deck as the sea reclaimed the giant's body, the resulting wave lifting the ship briefly. The druid bent through his knees as he landed, and felt himself surrounded by shouting, armed men. For a moment he felt threatened, but then he realized the marines were cheering for him. It evoked a smile from the druid, be it a brief one. The blue-eyed lad who was in command was shining with pride as he pushed through his men to greet him.

"You fought amazingly well, Elduin" the marine complimented him, smoke emitting from the barrels of his pistols.

Elduin got up. "I can tell you haven't seen the Kaldorei fight before. This was nothing."

"I could've handled him myself" Jeredan boasted.

They made haste to free the prisoners. Elduin had been relieved to find them alive. He'd feared the wave the sea giant had attacked him with would have flooded the side corridor and killed the men. Ironically enough, the giant's solid grasp on hydromancy had played to their advantage, for he'd managed to keep the wave well away from them. With the help of a rope and his transforming abilities they were able to help the weakened men down one by one. He'd rarely listened to a tale more erratic and chaotic, but from what Elduin could piece together the giant had apparently kept them alive to try and find out if there were more ships around.

He could only hope the sea giant had been typically territorial and not serving some other purpose. They had enough enemies as it was. The former prisoners were quickly sent below decks to recuperate as the ship began to make its way back to Adane's hold. Elduin could only imagine what the prisoners had had to survive on while trapped in the cave, so it came as no surprise that he had never seen men more elated at the thought of food. The damage to the main mast was bad and severely limited their speed, but the wind was in their favour, and though Elduin knew little of sailing, he could tell these men were highly experienced at sea and would get them back to the shore.

Days later, at nightfall, Elduin stood looking out over the bow of the ship, with mixed feelings. When he'd heard they were close to the shore and the rest of the navy, he'd been too curious to wait, and had gone to scout ahead. Part of him was glad at least not all of them were dead, but the other part of him was dissapointed in the state the fleet was in. He doubted there would be enough marines to pose a serious threat to the orcs.

Elduin had gained some of the men's trust, but he still kept his eyes peeled. His ears picked up more than some of these humans realized. Even now, he could hear their whispers below decks, like knives being sharpened in the dark. The night was one of the few times when he felt somewhat at ease. It allowed him to be alone. Well, perhaps not quite alone. The boy, Llorrin was his name, had approached softly, and now walked up beside him.

"Many of the men are singing your praises, druid" he addressed the druid, walking up beside him. Elduin could tell his scarred visage still made the marine uncomfortable.

"Many, but not all?" Elduin asked rhetorically. The tall warrior who had fought off the sea giant was one of the reasons he guarded his back at all times. Llorrin stared at his feet.

"I know. No need to tell them out" Elduin entrusted him. As Llorrin's eyes found his again he could tell he wasn't completely convinced of his trustworthiness yet.

_He wants to believe me, but he doesn't want to lose his men by vouching for me either_ Elduin realized, finding sympathy for the lad within himself.

"I will need to know more about your people, druid. You praised them for their skill in battle, and you move unlike any other warrior we've ever seen before. Why seek out the remnants of a defeated army?"

Elduin perked an eyebrow at that notion, which he simply couldn't accept. The one moment the boy seemed to be radiating with life, but sometimes, especially at night, he appeared full of despair.

"A defeated army? You haven't told me of any defeats you've suffered. How could an army that has not yet gone to war have been defeated?" he spoke strictly, spotting the shame his words caused on the young officer's face.

"To answer your question," Elduin continued, "We are currently near the south-eastern part of Kalimdor, the land of Tanaris. Central Kalimdor is where you will find the orcs. My people live in the North."

"So we have them in an iron grip then" Llorrin said sarcastically. Every mention of his deceased admiral clearly pained the lad.

"My people still stand strong and fight the orcs-" Elduin began.

"Then _why_ are you here?" Llorrin interrupted.

"- but we also have other enemies." It was difficult to keep anything hidden from the lad, Elduin realized. Only the full truth, something he'd been unwilling to part with at first, would gain him his trust.

"I've touched upon this subject before, but I may not have explained it well enough. I am a renegade: I abandoned the ancient ways of my people for their own good. Too few would follow me, so me and my followers quickly became doomed, hunted by orcs and allies alike."

Llorrin seemed to find the idea of abandoning one's people absolutely abhorrent.

"What convinced you to do that?"

Elduin sighed. There was too much wisdom behind those piercing eyes to be fooled by a lie, but he didn't think the lad would like the truth either. Nevertheless, he had no other choice.

"I wasn't always a renegade. When High Priestess Tyrande and Shan'do Stormrage awakened me and my brethren, the Druids of the Talon, to fight against the Burning Legion, we flocked to their cause. I stood alongside your people as well as the Horde at the battle of Mount Hyal, though I always kept a wary eye on the orcs. They killed our demi-god, Cenarius, and they also killed far too many ancients to ever be forgiven."

Llorrin's frown ran deep. The fatigue was getting to him.

"Get to the point. You said you witnessed that Lordaeron was completely lost. When did that happen? When did you go there?"

_So he has a keen memory, too. There may be more to humans than I first thought._

"That, is a long story…" Elduin began, "… but not an unimportant one" he quickly added when he saw the impatience behind Llorrin's eyes.

"One of the heroes of our first victory over the Legion, Illidan Stormrage, followed the same path I did. You could say he served as an… inspiration… He consumed the Legion's own energies-"

"_Demonic_ energies, you mean" Llorrin said, frowning.

"In time, you may find power is merely power, young one. Good or evil depends not on the nature of the magic, but the wielder's intent."

"Hm" Llorrin said, still sounding unconvinced, though he probably knew too little about magic to continue this discussion.

"He used this magic to slay Tichondrius one of the main engineers of the Scourge, and even almost managed to shatter the Frozen Throne and destroy the undead."

For a moment, hope returned in Llorrin's eyes.

"Did he succeed?"

"No. Unfortunately, the grudges some of our people carried against Illidan caused Shan'do Stormrage and Priestess Tyrande's presence there. I was part of the force that tracked Illidan, and unfortunately, we unwittingly stopped his spell, thinking it was malignant in nature."

Llorrin sighed and shook his head at the sky, muttering a curse. The hope was gone again.

"Still, the power I witnessed that day… It was capable of tearing apart worlds! Imagine what we could do to the orcs if we were to wield such magic…!" Elduin exclaimed, but he quickly noticed he was alienating the human.

"The power to tear apart worlds…" Llorrin repeated softly, looking out over the waves, waves that were calm now, but had threatened to swallow him mere weeks ago.

"I don't think-" he started, apparently in pain just from expressing the thought.

"I'm not asking you to walk upon the same path I have, young one" Elduin quickly said, raising a hand.

"I want you to understand how it is that I fell from grace with my people. In some ways – many ways -, Illidan, too, had his flaws. It could be said he wasted his talents to some degree. But in the hands of the _right_ person, all power can be used for good…"  
Llorrin sighed and turned towards him.

"I'm going to have to believe you, Elduin, and I _will_ try to convince my captain of your tale, but here's a tip: keep your demonic nature to yourself. Once the men find out a demonic army was behind the destruction of Lordaeron, I'm certain many of them won't care that you've helped us out if you reveal you've consumed similar energies."

"I know, I know" Elduin acknowledged, nodding. It wasn't too hard to imagine some of the humans in the fleet had gone completely insane over the course of their arduous journey and would no longer be able to even tell black from white.


	6. Destiny

If captain Adane was happy to see Llorrin, he didn't show it. He looked up from his map –which, in the meantime, had become somewhat more complete- and folded it slowly, taking him in with his dark, almost black eyes.

"Llorrin" he said, with little warmth in his voice. The captain sighed as he looked the lad over. Adane's eyes then strayed briefly to the addled painting on the wall. Llorrin tried hard not to look as well.

"You are late."

"My apologies, captain."

"You have exceeded the time you got for your mission by two weeks. The fact you brought back more ships and survivors than any of the other captains changes little. Still, considering this was only your first time commanding a ship… you'll have to tell me how you managed that."

Even though it had likely been by accident the notion of being referred to as a captain almost made Llorrin swell with pride, but he kept his body under control, convinced it was the worst possible of times to show pride. He was about to answer his captain when Adane discovered the large storm crow hopping about at Llorrin's feet.

"No" Adane immediately said, raising a hand. "First tell me why you brought that thing in here."

"Eh, those things are both related, captain" Llorrin explained with a faint smile.

The captain raised his eyebrows. If Llorrin didn't know better he'd think the captain was doubting his sanity. Llorrin shrugged and looked at the crow.

"Elduin?"

Adane jumped up and reached for his cutlass at the sight of the transformation that took place in front of him. He stopped when he saw that the elf-like creature before his eyes didn't make any threatening movements. Instead, the druid bowed slowly, his tattered cloak rustling like leaves.

"Ishnu-alah, captain Adane. The boy has already told me many great things about you" the druid said calmly. Llorrin shifted uncomfortably and blushed a little.

"Who are you?" Adane demanded, his eyes narrowing. He relaxed, but only slightly, as his hand remained close to his cutlass. Elduin slowly straightened his back.

"I am Elduin. Everything you need to know about me will no doubt become clear through Llorrin's report. The reason for my presence here, however, is far more important than my identity."

Adane's voice sounded doubtful. "How so?" He looked at Llorrin. "Llorrin? Care to explain?"

"I thought it would be better for you to be the first to see him in this form, captain, or I might not have been able to fetch him an audience with you. Eh… You know what some of the men are like" Llorrin said.

"Hm. A valid point" Adane had to admit.

"Elduin's kinsmen are at war with the Horde as well, captain. Once he heard about our mission, he decided to seek us out, hoping he could convince us to continue fighting the orcs."

Adane looked like he was bracing himself against bad news to come.

"On whose authority? We have our orders" he said with a stern look in Elduin's direction, his otherwise commanding voice suddenly thin as paper.

Llorrin swallowed. "He… told us the same thing the warlock did, my captain" he confirmed his captain's fears.

Adane sighed and sunk back down again on his chair. He suddenly looked much older than a few moments before.

"So it is as I feared."

None of them had anything to say to that. Elduin's expression was unreadable, while Llorrin seemed taken aback by this sudden display of weakness, where he would have expected anger. When Adane's hand began to clench into a fist Llorrin's face lighted up, slightly.

"Daelin was murdered, and some of the men would not even agree we should go and avenge him."

Llorrin raised his eyebrows.

"The Admiral's orders were clear: 'Should any harm befall me or Benedict-" he started reciting the orders, relieved the recollection of those tormenting words finally came in handy.

"It's not _me_ you have to convince" Adane said irritatedly. "No one questions the Admiral's orders, but they doubt our… sources."

The notion that men within their own ranks were opposing the idea of fighting the Horde angered Llorrin. Even if it was a minority, it meant a huge problem. They were going to need everyone.

"Admiral Proudmoore would always prefer this course of action" he said stubbornly. "He wouldn't want us to sit back while the Horde is expanding their borders and growing stronger each day."

Adane nodded, but made a face that showed he didn't think that argument would be enough to convince the rest of the fleet.

"Elduin" he said, for the first time sounding somewhat cordial. "You wouldn't happen to know about Lieutenant Benedict's fate at Tiragarde?"

"They were wiped out by the same storm that wrecked your fleet. A Theramore garrisson has taken their place" Elduin said. Adane shrugged, shaking his head.

"_If_ you speak the truth, we _have_ to return. However, knowing Alverold… I fear he will not abandon our task without solid evidence."

"Then let's stop waiting for him! After all it's his fault this expedition is taking so long, and for all we know he might be dead, so-" Llorrin started, but a stern look from Adane shut him up and made him realize he'd gone too far.

"If you will, captain, my people could easily provide you with maps of Kalimdor, making your mission here redundant" the druid spoke up. He was baffled that these humans had not considered the possibility of friendly civilizations existing on Kalimdor. They truly were very much fixed on the orcs…

"That's all well and good, but only Lieutenant Alverold has the authority to decide whether or not we should trust you, and he's still missing in action. _He_ was put in charge of this expedition. You wouldn't have happened to find him, did you?" Adane asked rhetorically.

"Elduin found many ships and sent them back here-" Llorrin said wryly.

"-but I'm afraid none of them had a captain named Alverold" the night elf finished his sentence for him.

"I'm worried that we may get stuck here" Adane admitted, not hiding his disdain. His eyes were fixed on the painting of Kul Tiras. Llorrin got an idea.

"Jaina Proudmoore is still in command of Theramore. With Admiral Proudmoore dead, she is the nearest source of _true_ authority this fleet has. Perhaps we should seek her out and-"

"No!"

Adane and Elduin shared a startled look when they realized they had spoken simultaneously.

"With all due respect for your Admiral's daughter, but she has no mind to lead a war. Strange as it may be, the soldiers I had spoken to were given orders to _avoid_ hostilities with the orcs if they could."

Adane made a rude sound at that notion.

"I agree with the- with whatever you are" he said with a wave of his hand.

"A night elf" Llorrin informed him quickly. Adane continued uninterrupted.

"Jaina's birthright does give her authority, even more so now that Daelin is dead, but if she is allowed to take command of this fleet, we'll never go to war against the Horde, that much is certain. The girl spent too much time on her studybooks, too much time seeing princes, too much time locked in the gardens of Dalaran. Too much, too much. No, she is not fit for war. Not at all" he growled.

_She may have saved a lot of people from the Scourge by leading them here, but she also refuses to retaliate, while the Horde killed so many of her men. And where was she when her father died?_ Llorrin thought, recalling everything Elduin had told him about Daelin's daughter. He was unsure of what to think of Jaina. Part of him admired her, he also couldn't understand her leniency towards the orcs. Still, despite her obvious misgivings, he found the way Adane spoke about her somewhat unsettling, especially since it was coming from a man who had been so loyal to her father.

The conversation stopped, until Llorrin got another idea. He turned to Elduin.

"Those men you spoke of, were they happy with Jaina's commands, avoiding hostilities with the orcs, I mean?"

Elduin shook his head. "Most were not, and they made it clear in no uncertain terms. Many claimed to have lost comrades to the Horde. Although none would speak a bad word of the girl, most clearly bore no positive intentions towards the Horde whatsoever. However, they seemed fiercely loyal at the same time and willing to set aside their personal qualms out of respect for Jaina."

That was almost exactly what Llorrin had wanted to hear. He turned to his captain, who seemed to understand what he was getting at.

"Captain, we cannot wait for Lieutenant Alverold's return. If he's dead, we may wait forever and rot here. We may not have enough men to fight the Horde, but we should meet them in battle nevertheless. Surely, even if we're driven back, Jaina will not be able to contain her people's resentment for the orcs to the point she could prevent them from coming to our aid."

Adane cleared his throat.

"It's true what you said about our men, but we cannot repeat the mistakes Daelin made. If we're going to face an entire nation by ourselves we'll need _everyone_, and we can't risk being at odds with Jaina and Theramore, either. Trusting blindly that her people will come to our aid if we attack the orcs is a folly, a risk we cannot take. Besides, that didn't help Daelin the first time either, if I am to assume Jaina's forces did help him in his battle."

Elduin nodded.

"The forces of Theramore stood together with your Admiral against the orcs at Theramore, but they ceased to fight after he had perished."

"Why wouldn't they fight on our side again?!" Llorrin exclaimed, slowly getting more and more frustrated at the time this was taking. To him, everything was crystal clear.

"Because Daelin could override Jaina's authority! We, cannot" Adane said in a voice that warned him about the tone he was making. Llorrin lowered his voice, but didn't let up, even though he was growing more and more desperate.

"We're following his orders. That should give us the authority we need."

Adane waved his hand dismissively. "That's a risk we cannot take, and besides, our orders were not meant for Jaina's people. I will hear no more about it."

Llorrin had been forced to bite his tongue at Adane's earlier comment on Admiral Proudmoore's 'mistakes'. How could his own captain have been so respectless? He wasn't about to give up this easily. Llorrin turned to Elduin again. His knowledge – his lies, perhaps – were the key to swinging this situation in his favour.

"Theramore still stands even though the Horde ravaged through it. Surely this must mean some of our own men survived the battle as well. They can't all have been killed."

"From what I gathered, those that survived were turned into the Theramore army" Elduin said with a nod. That _wasn't_ what Llorrin had hoped for or expected.

"While Benedict was still holding out on the shores? While they knew of Jaina's…" he looked at Adane to check whether the captain was giving him a warning glance. He wasn't. "… betrayal?" The word left a foul taste in Llorrin's mouth, but it had nevertheless felt like the best way to describe Jaina's pacifist attitude towards the orcs. Denying a man, no, _a nation_, its vengeance was as much an offense as the offense that had gone before the lust for vengeance itself.

Elduin spread his hands.

"They had little choice at the time. Perhaps those men hoped Jaina would eventually change her mind. Perhaps they thought they should live to fight another day. Perhaps they will follow a proper leader when the time comes."

Adane was less positive.

"_Perhaps_, however, some of our own fleet will choose to flock to her when they learn she's alive and in command of a city" he said.

Adane was staring at Llorrin intently. His gaze made him uncomfortable and he felt as though he was supposed to say something, so he did.

"We don't have to tell the men about Jaina. As it stands hardly anyone in this fleet knows anything about Theramore. We could simply launch the attack, and-" he started.

"You would lie to our men?"

Llorrin shrugged, slightly, his careless visage a poor reflection of the shame he truly felt inside.

"If that is what it takes."

He couldn't say it was a lie. They had originally set out to defeat the orcs, why should it be a problem to go and do so now? It felt like he was giving away a piece of his soul suggesting this, but his anger towards the Horde won it over his reason.

"No. A plan built on lies is sure to collapse at the most critical stage. I will not lie to the men about Jaina, or her pacifist intentions. If there's one opinion almost _all_ of us share, however, it's that this damn expedition has taken more than long enough. Although not all of them will trust Elduin on his offer, even the most skeptical captains would rather take this chance than sailing further into this unknown land. In the morning, I will try to convince the captains to set sail for Tiragarde."

"But then how will we make sure Jaina doesn't take control of-" Llorrin protested, even though things were already looking up.

"I will tell them we're not under Jaina's jurisdiction. There is another, Daelin's _actual_ heir."

"Tandred?!" Llorrin blurted out.

The tone of Llorrin's voice hadn't escaped Elduin.

"Should I assume this Tandred doesn't have much of a warrior's heart either?" the druid asked flatly.

"That's one way of putting it" Llorrin said sarcastically, a look that bordered on disgust on his face. If they were going to let Tandred take command of the fleet, they might as well bury their swords right now. Tandred was a good man, but he'd never agree on something as risky as an all out war against the Horde. Seeing home again – if it still existed – was tempting, but right now his destiny was here, in Kalimdor.

"Tandred is not the ideal leader we can wish for now, but he is still a better choice than Jaina" Adane explained, seemingly letting the direspect Llorrin had shown to Tandred moments before slip, though Llorrin feared he'd come back on it later.

"_And_ he is many more miles away" Adane added cleverly.

Llorrin finally caught on to his captain's plan.

"We can use his authority to escape Jaina's grasp, but that'll only work temporarily, and I doubt Tandred will support our fight against the Horde. It's more likely he'll keep us to defend Kul Tiras" Llorrin said quickly.

_Or send us against the undead_ he thought, shivering involuntarily. Llorrin was unable to hide his disdain for Tandred completely. How the Admiral could have bred such a weak-chinned son was beyond him.

Adane's eyes strayed to his desk. "We're only buying time with this plan, I know. Nevertheless, it is the best we can do right now. I will think of something else."

_We could just stay here and have Jaina remain oblivious to our existence_ Llorrin thought, but he quickly realized such a course of action meant a dead end.

"It is decided then" Adane said after a few moments of mulling over the plan. "If I can convince the captains, we will set sail for Tiragarde tomorrow, where we will ascertain whether your night elf friend is speaking the truth. If he is, we will continue our way to-"

"Theramore" Llorrin said quickly, interrupting Adane for the first time in his life.

"Theramore? I thought we agreed Jaina-"

"Captain, you said we would need all the men we could get. We can't take over Theramore, but we could convince the remains of the Admiral Proudmoore's fleet who reside there to join us."

"It's too risky. I will not go there and risk Jaina winning over my men" Adane said.

"Then send me, with a small amount of your most loyal men" Llorrin suggested, unable to tell what was making him so audacious. "If you manage to take command of the fleet, you could keep them out of her reach. You were a close friend of Admiral Proudmoore,  
captain. Surely you should be able to do at least that."

"Theramore it is, then" Adane decided. He suddenly looked very determined. This was no longer a man caught in grief over the loss of an old friend. This was a man that was certain he'd be able to convince his fellow captains to turn their sails.

"Llorrin, in the morning I want you to take two of our fastest frigates to Tiragarde. Your crew will be awaiting you. I will arrange everything. You will travel ahead of the rest of the fleet and ascertain whether this druid is speaking the truth when you reach the keep. If he is, you will continue to Theramore and try and rally as many men as you can for this crusade. Our orders were to sail to Tiragarde, not Theramore, so I should be able to keep the fleet at bay at the keep and keep them out of Jaina's clutches. You will join us at Tiragarde with the men you've gathered, and from thereon we shall sail for Kul Tiras to gain Tandred's approval."

Llorrin was elated.

"Yes, sir" he said, unable to keep a big grin from crossing his face. The smirk slipped from his face when he saw the way Adane was looking at Elduin.

"I am prone to believe you, druid, but know that I am still taking a huge risk trusting you. I could be making an enormous fool of myself if I find Daelin is still alive, and this is just some native ploy to slow down our exploration of your continent. You speak of your people, of maps you are willing to part with, of an enmity with the orcs, but you have no evidence…"

Adane let an uneasy silence reign.

"Llorrin, this night elf will be travelling with you as your prisoner. Keep him locked up until you've ascertained the truth. If it turns out he's been lying, execute him. If he tries to escape, it should be proof enough he's lying, and you should turn your sails" he finally said.

"But captain!" Llorrin protested, appalled at the thought of having to put Elduin in a cage.

"Should I consider someone else to lead this mission?" Adane asked, which shut Llorrin up immediately.

"The course is set" Adane stated. To Llorrin's surprise Elduin hadn't even flinched at the notion he was going to be locked up.

"If this is a fate I have to carry for the good of my people and this expedition, I shall" the druid said with a bow. He turned and left the cabin. Though he kept a straight face, locking the druid up didn't sit well with Llorrin. He wanted to go after him, but was stopped by Adane's voice, which carried an unusual amount of concern and compassion.

"Llorrin. Your youth makes you impatient, but know that no justice will be done by throwing your life away. To attain our vengeance we will have to take careful, deliberate steps. For the sake of upholding Daelin's charge, make sure I do not lose you."

This time Llorrin's eyes did follow Adane's gaze to the renewed spot on the painting, and for the first time he had an idea about what the original version must have contained.


	7. Cold As Ice

Llorrin returned to his frigate a short time later. Upon reaching his captain's cabin, he didn't even bother to try catching any sleep. He was far too pumped up on adrenaline at the prospect of this new task to even consider it. _His_ frigate, _his_ captain's cabin. Even simply being able to think in such terms was amazing. It felt like all his endeavours over all these years, all the hard work, all the challenges, fights and other hardships had been leading up to this moment. He'd not been able to take this ship to sea yet, but it was said to be the fastest in the modest fleet they'd assembled. Llorrin counted himself lucky the ship had been without a captain, although he was careful not to rejoice in the former captain's death too much either.

Even very late into the night, Llorrin could see lights coming from the biggest tent in the camp. He opened a window and leaned outside, all of his senses fixed on the command tent. He figured Adane, too, had probably been unable to sleep and had called a captain's meeting shortly after Llorrin had departed. He concentrated, and over the soft splashing of the waves and the whistling of the wind he could hear what he assumed to be the captains' voices. It seemed to him the voices had a hasty, impatient vibe to them. Llorrin was too far away to make out their exact words, but there was one voice that dominated all the others, and he realized he knew it all too well.

Llorrin woke up to a great turmoil, unable to remember when he had fallen asleep. His neck and shoulders were sore from being slumped down on the window sill all night. Well, the short time after he'd fallen asleep, at least. Llorrin squinted against the sun and spotted the cause of the turmoil on the beach. The men were breaking up the camp! Aware of what that meant, he jumped up and realized he had to get ready to depart as well. Llorrin walked outside to freshen up, clad only in his pants, and saw the deck was still pretty much abandoned.

His crew was yet to arrive. No doubt Adane and the captains he'd managed to convince would only send him men hand-picked for their loyalty and desire to fight the Horde, men they could be sure would not be swayed by Jaina when the time came, so he had to anticipate meeting some new people. If he was going to lead these men, he'd better look as much as an officer as he possibly could, so Llorrin picked up a bucket from the ground and threw it down into the water by a rope. He had almost finished pulling the filled bucket back up when the water suddenly _leaped_up at  
him.

"Wha-?" Llorrin managed to bring out before the water splashed all over him. The rope slipped out of his hands. He sighed, realizing there was only one person who would flaunt her ability to manipulate water like this. He turned around, reluctantly.

"Irewyth" he acknowledged her softly, tasting the salt on his lips. He brushed a hand through his hair to keep more of the prickling sea water from dripping into his eyes, trying to hide his irritation.

"Did captain Adane send you?"

"I guess that's one way of putting it" the hydromancess chuckled, moving past him to stare out across the sea.

"I'm not going to stay put any longer. I've been locked away from the world on this expedition for far too long already" she claimed.

_She's here for herself. Of course_ Llorrin thought, only slightly disappointed. He shook out his hair, ignoring the ambitious woman's cries of protest as he splashed water onto her.

"I'm sure the world misses you just as much" he said sarcastically, leaning back against the railing and closing his eyes as he bathed in the sun. He expected her to bite back, but ended up getting disappointed by her silence.

"You still haven't given this ship a name, you know" he finally heard Irewyth say.

Llorrin looked at her, somewhat confused.

"A name? Isn't she already supposed to already have one?"

"The previous captain _died_, as well as most of the crew. You could change the name. New captains sometimes do that."

She was speaking to him like he was a child again, and he didn't like it one bit. Llorrin turned away to lean over the railing.

"I'll change the name when the time comes, there's more important things on my mind right now" he decided. He had a few ideas, but he wasn't up for doing anything simply because Irewyth desired it of him right now. Still, he was suddenly unable to contain his curiosity.

"Do you know the current name?"

He didn't like the sparkling smile she cast one bit.

"The last captain named it shortly after the fleet departed from Kul Tiras. He must have been trying to impress someone. He called it _the Lady Irewyth_."

She left with a smirk as Llorrin closed his eyes and groaned in his mind.

Looking over his newly assembled crew from the quarterdeck felt amazing. The men were packed closely together, and there were a lot of unfamiliar faces in the mass, which pulled Llorrin's attention to those he knew. Irewyth didn't seem to be looking forward to his upcoming speech. Well, at least it didn't surprise him. The hydromancess was talking to Wheann, who seemed rather uncomfortable. Llorrin guessed Wheann was trying to tell the hydromancess to quiet down because he could start any minute, but the half-elf clearly wasn't having much success.

Chuth was at the front of the pack. The sniper had his fists clenched and was keeping a wary eye on Jeredan, who was right next to him and looking at the dwarf-like man curiously, much in the way a starved wolf would look at a chicken that had waltzed upon his path. Llorrin wondered which one of the two men he disliked the most, but quickly decided now wasn't the time to be thinking such things. He was going to need everyone.

Llorrin had placed Carekon at his side, even though the chaplain had no real duty to fulfill – yet. Adane had warned Llorrin how easy it was to forget the positions of others once you'd started rising through the ranks yourself, and it was a warning Llorrin had heeded. It caught his attention that the chaplain was looking rather miserable, but he could only guess why.

"Brotheren, countrymen" Llorrin called, painfully aware of how immature his voice suddenly sounded. He tried hard not to look at Irewyth.

"You've all been informed on what we're set to do and I know we're all itching to get moving, so I'll keep this short. I want you all to know I consider the night elf locked below decks as a friend and an equal, and I hope you will as well. If everything turns out right, Elduin's people may become powerful allies in our war against the orcs. He is not to be harmed, not under any circumstance" he stated, making sure to make his voice sound deeper this time. Llorrin could see his orders didn't fall well with some of the men, Jeredan in particular.

"If it wasn't for Elduin we'd all still be rotting away in the desert, and do I even need to mention the many lives he's helped save?" he added quickly, staring fiercely in the direction of the men who had shrugged off his earlier statement. His words seemed to sway at least a few of them.

"Elduin has informed me the Horde has established a strong hold on central Kalimdor, and I, for one, trust him. We will sail out of sight of the shore for as long as we can. The orcs must _not_ learn of our existence… at least, not until we show up on their doorstep!" he exclaimed, thrusting his cutlass up into the air. It felt like a stupid, impulsive thing to do and he caught Irewyth rolling her eyes, but at least a few men cheered, and Jeredan was among them. Llorrin felt almost grateful for the crusader's demeanor this time. One could always count on his aggression.

"Since most of you hail from crews that were almost decimated in the storm I'll still have to split up this group over the two frigates. Captain Adane has chosen to leave it up to me to decide who will command the other ship" Llorrin announced. Irewyth looked up, suddenly interested. For once, it wasn't so hard to guess what she was thinking. This was the part he'd been waiting for.

"Chuth, you're the most experienced sailor of all of us. I'm giving you command" he said. Llorrin did his best not to laugh at the sight of Irewyth's face. He didn't know who looked the more surprised, Chuth or Irewyth. If looks could kill Ireywyth's eyes would have frozen Llorrin and shattered him into a million pieces on the spot.

It was about to get even better.

"Carekon will stay at my side to provide me with sagely advice" he continued undisturbed.

The chaplain nodded thankfully. "I will do my best."

"Irewyth and Wheann, you will join Chuth's crew" Llorrin continued, a small smirk slipping onto his face. Though by now she was trying hard not to show it, he could tell the hydromancess was boiling with rage at the notion of being put below Chuth, whom she despised.

"I'm also making Jeredan my second in command on this ship" Llorrin finally concluded. It had been a tough decision to either keep Jeredan separated from Chuth, whose dwarf blood might put him off, or leave the crusader on _the Lady Irewyth_, where he probably couldn't trust him to stay away from Elduin. Llorrin had finally decided that if he was going to keep the restless warrior anywhere, he'd rather keep him close where he could see him.

"Chuth, you can pick your own crew. Take half of the remaining men. Now, get moving everyone. We have a war to win!"

A couple more men cheered this time.

_I'm making progress_ Llorrin thought, smiling inwardly as he turned away.

That was the sign for everyone to go about their business. Chuth started picking out his men with the cocksureness of a general who has won a hundred battles while some of the men closest to him appeared to suddenly have urgent business elsewhere. Before Llorrin could go anywhere Carekon put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"You asked me to be your advisor" the chaplain said.

Llorrin nodded hesitantly.

"Then allow me to share some wisdom. Loyal followers make good followers. Disloyal ones do not."

The chaplain left the quarterdeck, leaving Llorrin confused and alone. With Carekon, it was always hard for him to figure out whether or not there'd been something behind his words, or not. He finally chose to shrug it off, feeling he'd done really well so far. Llorrin not only trusted Chuth to do a good job, he'd also ensured he could count on the sniper when the time came.

The rest of the fleet was still preparing and breaking up the camp as Llorrin's two frigates started their journey North. He'd been told all traces of Adane's Hold would be erased, as it carried no further purpose to the fleet. The wind was in their favour, and the frigates were as fast as Adane had promised. Soon, the rest of the ships were just specks on the horizon.

The frigates sailed out of sight of the shore for many miles. By Carekon's estimates the journey back was going to be indefinitely shorter. Not only did they have maps at their disposal, this time the frigates weren't being slowed down by battleships and didn't have to stop at every patch of land or island they came across to explore and stock up on supplies either. Supplies were one thing the crew wouldn't have to worry about, at least, if it hadn't been up to Llorrin. They'd had little reserves to start with, and Llorrin didn't want to waste any time sailing to the small island outposts the expedition had left in their trail.

He'd already made this decision a few days into the journey and for once, Jeredan was the only one who didn't complain about his orders. Rations were small, but Llorrin was positive they could make it, and no doubt the forces occupying Keep Tiragarde would welcome them with open arms and part with some of their own as soon as they reached them. While the men were unhappy with his decision, Llorrin had at least gained some of the crewmembers' respect by subjecting himself to his own orders as well. His uniform felt like it grew larger with every day that passed.

No doubt Adane would thank him for passing up on the outposts later. Llorrin figured it was exactly the kind of thing his captain would have done. Adane would be sure to pick up those men when he passed there with the main part of the fleet anyway, and Llorrin would wager his right arm Adane was going to need those supplies more than he did. Despite the trouble with the crew, Llorrin felt better than he ever had since he'd been sent on this blasted expedition. Now that he had regained a sense of purpose, he felt… liberated.

The one thing that bugged him was how he was forced to keep Elduin locked below decks. Though Llorrin had been exploring Kalimdor for the last six years of his life, the druid knew more about it than he could ever hope, and it often seemed to him the same counted for pretty everything else. He sometimes wondered just how old the night elf could possible be. While it was quite daunting at times, Llorrin could only be thankful for Elduin's vast knowledge. With everything he'd missed out on during his time with Lieutenant Alverold's fleet, he considered his frequent conversations with Elduin his gates back into the world.

Llorrin kept guards posted in front of Elduin's cell more for the druid's own safety than anything else. Originally he had hoped the guards would become endeared to the druid somewhat, but this didn't seem to be happening. Llorrin went to see him as often as the duties of a captain permitted him. He spent the rest of his time showing himself to the new members of his crew, asking them about their work and getting to know each one of them at least a little. Carekon had told him men would rather give their lives for a friend than for total stranger, and while Llorrin probably would've dedicated some time to his crew on his own accord as well, he could only see pleasing the chaplain as a bonus.

Sometimes Llorrin went on board of the other frigate to see how Chuth was holding up. He often heard Chuth shouting orders all the way from the other deck, so it wasn't really the sniper's leadership he was worried about. He was more concerned about Irewyth and whether or not she was gaining too much influence on the ship. He'd expected her to try and usurp as much of Chuth's leadership as she possibly could, but to his surprise she rarely showed herself, and according to the men it wasn't only when Llorrin was on board. He hadn't seen Irewyth for weeks, which felt strange, but he'd be damned if he made an effort to go see her first. Chuth pretended he didn't even know the hydromancess was on board. Llorrin didn't really know if that was a good thing, but at least it seemed the sniper had the situation under control.

At the end of the thirtheenth day Llorrin went to see Elduin again. He'd tried to arrange as much comfort for the night elf as as possible, but it was clear to Llorrin the confines of his cell weren't doing the druid any good. Even though he wouldn't complain a word, the night elf was obviously tiring. Llorrin understood Elduin had recently loved lost ones to the orcs and appeared to be blaming himself for it, and in any case it wasn't a good thing to leave a man who was suffering under such a burden alone with his thoughts for too long.

Aware of that, Llorrin often gave his ration of rum to the druid. Whether it would have a positive effect in the long run was doubtful, but at least it made the druid of the talon more talkative, and they wouldn't be on this boat forever anyway. Though initially wary of the strong beverage, he soon came to like it.

"It's almost unbelievable how fast this journey is going. The wind has been in our favour ever since we departed" Llorrin said as he sat down on a nearby barrel. He quickly passed Elduin the bottle through the bars of his cell. The night elf took a swig before answering.

"Yes, you could almost say it's… unnatural…" Elduin said slyly.

Llorrin suddenly caught on to something.

"Wait a minute, you don't mean…?"

Elduin took another swig.

"I thought I _felt_ there was something funny going on" Llorrin muttered.

He doubted the night elf would believe him, but nevertheless it seemed to catch his attention.

"Look, you don't have to waste your energy to-" Llorrin started, concerned for the druid's elf, but Elduin cut him off.

"It's very wise of you to notice I was using magic. You needn't worry about me. The confines of this cell are damaging me more than the constant drain on my magic. The faster we reach Tiragarde Keep, the faster your countrymen will see I was speaking the truth, and the faster I can get out of this blasted cell."

"You wouldn't be here if it was up to me. _I_ believe you" Llorrin said. It sounded like an apology.

Elduin took another sip.

"I know."

"You have a talent, boy. A rare talent for your kind, I might add."

Llorrin's eyes widened. "You mean, for magic?"

The look in Elduin's eyes told him all he needed to know. Confirmation. Finally.

"Could _you_ teach me magic?"

"No" Elduin said immediately.

"It is not a personal matter. Humans aren't allowed to become druids of the talon, only night elves. You'd have to spend a great amount of time in the Emerald Dream to develop your skill, and you probably wouldn't survive even if you managed to gain access to it" he quickly added when he saw the look of disappointment on Llorrin's face.

"Even if I wanted to, this ship isn't the right place to train you. A druid has to be one with the land around him. I've offended everything I've stood for already. I cannot go down that path."

Llorrin raised his eyebrows.

"_Offended_? I don't think you have. If going against the rules is what it takes to do what's best, then you should. I understand why you wanted to choose to take the power that was within your reach" the words came rolling out. It was simply the way he felt. In many ways, his situation seemed similar to that of the night elf.

Elduin smirked. The rum was beginning to have its effect.

"What about Prince Arthas? He embraced a dark power too when he picked up Frostmourne, and see where it lead him."

"That was different, he let the power _corrupt_ him. He gave up on his original goal" Llorrin said stubbornly, breaking eye contact. "Besides, you wouldn't talk like that if you didn't know I already trusted you." Elduin seemed genuinely amused.

"And you? Would _you_ let power corrupt you?"

"No."

"Not just talented, but also determined" he complimented the young officer. "You may yet play a big role in this upcoming war against the orcs."

"I wish" Llorrin admitted with a nervous smile. He couldn't say he didn't like the idea, but he still envisioned other, more capable men to lead from the front, at least in the upcoming conflict.

"Unless it would mean any harm should befall Captain Adane, that is" he quickly added, knowing he should be careful of what he wished for.

"Is he your father?" Elduin suddenly said.

That was a surprisingly difficult question for Llorrin.

"Yes" he decided after a few moments. "And no…" he had to admit, wryly.

It took him a couple of moments to gather his thoughts, but under the pressure of Elduin's penetrating gaze, he continued.

"My _actual_ parents were… killed, shortly after the beginning of the Second War. By the orcs. I can't even recall a face, or a name. We were a small fishing community on the shores near Old Hillsbrad, and unprepared for the coming of the Horde. No one survived to tell me what my mom and dad were like. As I said, I have absolutely nothing to remember them by" he said, feeling his fist beginning to clench.

Elduin frowned.

"How did _you_ survive?"

"Captain Adane saved me" he said. "He was sent by Admiral Proudmoore to survey the shores, but the fleet was thinly spread, and he arrived far too late to stop the attack. Adane led a sally into the town after most of the orcs had already marched on. My mother must have hidden me well, because I was the only survivor in the entire village. I was only a baby."

"Did you ever go back there?"

"Once" Llorrin sighed, feeling his eyes beginning to prickle. Elduin pretended he didn't notice. "There was nothing there. Not even a grave. Though the Alliance won the Second War, the village was never rebuilt. I figure they must've feared the orcs would one day return, or that pirates would see them as easy prey."

Elduin's face was coated in shadow as he leaned back.

"I should apologise. It's not my place to ask such personal questions. But know that you're not alone. I too, have lost many people to the orcs, even before I became a renegade. I can't ever forget my companions' faces. They are so vivid, still…"

A sudden, all too familiar smell caught Elduin's attention. He saw blood tickling down the the young human's hand.

"Am I tormenting you?" Elduin asked.

"No" Llorrin said quickly. "It's just…"

"You want vengeance" Elduin asked.

To his surprise, a wry smile appeared on the boy's face.

"Of course" he confessed, a glint in his eye. "Even though I cannot complain about my life – I probably would've been a simple fisherman if Adane hadn't found me – I feel it's my duty. No one deserves a life without actual parents to call his own, Elduin."

"You should get your vengeance" Elduin agreed. "It will help your parents' spirits to find rest."

"How do you know that? Could you reach out to them?" Llorrin asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Perhaps," Elduin said, looking away. "But not here. I would have to go to the place where they likely died to try it."

"Likely?" Llorrin repeated.

_He doesn't let anything slip past him... Good_ Elduin thought.

He raised his shoulders. "If there's no grave, no one to identify the bodies, no one who's told you anything, it's not unthinkable that they could have escaped, is it?"

Llorrin hadn't looked at it from that perspective yet. Could Elduin be right? A million objections popped up in his mind, but the thought of them being alive was too appealing to simply discard it like that. At the same time, he felt strangely grateful of the life he had now, compared to being a simple defenseless fisherman. Could he really think something like that without disrespecting his parents, though? Probably not.

"I don't know, Elduin," Llorrin said, shaking his head. "Surely they would've come after me if they lived, and did everything they could to find me."

"Who knows. That they didn't succeed doesn't mean they didn't try. What clues, what means did they have to find you?" Elduin said.

"None, most likely. I'm certain my mother wouldn't have left me behind like that if she had a chance of getting away alive, though" Llorrin sighed, his hope extinguishing.

"Perhaps she thought she'd be faster if she-" Elduin tried, but Llorrin's tormented expression stopped him from saying anything more.

"We could sit here guessing all day and not get an inch closer to the truth. None of us will find out what really happened unless we go to Old Hillsbrad and let you do your magic. We'd have to sail to the other side of the world for that, and the place is probably crawling with undead by now" he said, shivering a little.

"Yes, for now, our duties lie here, but help me see this through, and I **will** accompany you to Lordaeron and try to commune with the spirits there to find out the truth."

"I'll hold you to that" Llorrin said ironically, because he was far from certain they would make it that far.

_If_ they managed to initiate this war, win it, survive _every_ battle and _then_ get permission to return to Lordaeron and somehow circumvent the undead he could _perhaps_ get to know more about his parents' fate. It was a daunting task, but still... It seemed worth it.

A sudden turmoil from the upper deck startled them both. The ship shook, and it felt like it was being beat into repeatedly from all sides. Llorrin fell as the barrel slipped out from under him. He jumped up and drew his cutlass as he heard someone running down into the hold. It was Carekon. He looked pale.

"There's an attack" the mage said in a low voice.

"Who? Orcs?!" Llorrin asked, but Carekon fainted before he could answer.

"Blackhand's bones!" Llorrin exclaimed, kneeling down alongside the chaplain to check him for wounds. There were none, but he was under the impression there was some sort of spell affecting him.

"Llorrin! Free me! I can fight!" he shouted, grabbing the bars of his prison. Whatever effect the rum had had on Elduin seemed to have faded.

"Stay here! I'm not putting you at risk!" Llorrin commanded as he ran towards the stairway, taking the steps two at a time. The sounds of battle were raging above, and the smell of blood had mixed with another, remotely familiar smell.

A blur passed before his eyes. Night was falling and he could barely see what he was fighting, so he swung and stabbed forward blindly. His cutlass tasted the blood of the first enemy to jump him even before he saw what it was. The realization dawned upon him as the feral creature slipped off his blade, its grotesque shape becoming clear to him as his eyes got used to the darkness. _A Mur'gul!_ His ears picked up the gurgling screams and grunts of the attacking creatures, and as he looked around the slithering shapes, scaly hides, squinted eyes and tridents he saw left no mistake. The realization hit Llorrin like a tidal wave. _Naga!_

All around him, the deck had erupted into chaos. The bodies of several attackers and defenders alike were already strewn across the surface of_the Lady Irewyth_. Many Naga were climbing aboard, spilling onto the ship's deck from all possible sides. A quick look told Llorrin the other frigate was facing the same problem. The scaly Mur'guls used their sharp little hands and feet to climb the side of the ship while the reptilian Myrmidons and female Sirens pulled themselves onto the deck more slowly, like giant, scaly slugs. Steel clashed against coral blades as gunshots filled the air like the sound of a raging thunderstorm. The cries of man and beast alike were deafening.

Though he was standing in the middle of the ship, it wasn't long before the next opponent was upon him. A Mur'gul reaver jumped at Llorrin, his sharp teeth blickering in the moonlight as he raked at Llorrin's shoulders with his claws. Llorrin ducked to the left and swept his cutlass up as he came back up, his blade catching the Mur'gul in his side. The momentum of the strike slammed the creature into the deck, where it remained.

Llorrin quickly looked around to find his next opponent. A myrmidon slithered over the deck, coming at him with surprising speed. Blood gleamed on the creature's trident as it thrust forward at him with enough force to run him through. Llorrin jumped right, the side of the trident grazing his skin. He struck back, but was easily parried and pushed away by the Myrmidon, whose tongue flicked in and out of his mouth as he awaited his opponent's next move.

Llorrin suddenly realized he had urgent business to attend to. The Naga's numbers were swelling much too quickly and would certainly overwhelm his crew if he did nothing. Before the Myrmidon could move, Llorrin turned around and sprinted towards the quarterdeck. As he passed a pack of fighting warriors he took the opportunity to slash at a Myrmidon's back, dropping the beast to the ground. The blood froze on his cutlass before dropping to the ground in small shards, leaving the blade clean.

At the foot of the stairs the corpse a marine who's stomach had burst open blocked his way. Without dwelling on it, Llorrin jumped over the corpse and continued running up the stairs. He jerked to a stop when a small bloodstained creature jumped out of the shadows and latched onto his leg, hungrily carving at his flesh with its tiny claws and beak. Crying out in disgust, Llorrin struck out, shoving his sword down the base of the creature's skull. The parasite began to shake violently as the sword exited from its back and Llorrin was relieved to see it burst into a million frozen shards.

He immediately continued his way up the stairs, relieved to find no more enemies waiting for him at the quarterdeck. Llorrin took a deep breath and found himself using the moment's reprieve to try and spot Irewyth on the deck of the other ship. He didn't see her, nor did he feel any spells that might indicate her presence on board the frigate.

A sudden whoosh and a screech behind him returned him to reality. Llorrin immediately dropped himself down, covering his face with his arms to cover his fall. Something passed over him with a great whooshing sound, almost touching him. As he looked up he saw one of those winged creatures the Naga trained pass over him – a Couatl. The creature was dark enough so that it was almost invisible against the night sky. Before the creature could make another pass Llorrin had pushed himself up, pulled his pistol from his vest and fired. His shot caught the Couatl in the wing and the beast quickly spiraled down into the water, disappearing with a splash large enough to spill water onto the deck.

He finished running up the stairs and was right on time to spot three Naga Myrmidons slithering up from the back of the ship. One man who had come running up the quarterdeck from the other side was awaiting their charge. The only thing clearly visible about him was the blood stained on his sword, and the shine of his burning, azure eyes. _Jeredan,_ Llorrin thought, for once grateful for the warrior's presence as he rushed to the crusader's aid. Before he even reached them, Jeredan had already cleaved the top half of the first Myrmidon's body off. While extremely deadly in waters, the Naga were considerably less agile on solid ground, and Llorrin was able to evade one Myrmidon's trident and get in behind him. Outmanoeuvred, the surprised beast didn't stand a chance. His cutlass drove deeply into the monster's back, piercing the heart and sending the Naga warrior crashing forward into the deck, the creature's weight almost ripping his cutlass from his hand.

Llorrin jerked his weapon free and then wasted no time to join Jeredan in his fight against the third. The crusader swung at the Myrmidon's trident repeatedly, keeping the weapon at bay as Llorrin stabbed at the Naga warrior time and time again, driving him back to the ship's railing. The Myrmidon wielded his cumbersome weapon with admirable skill, but nevertheless was soon sent falling over the railing of the ship, bleeding from many wounds.

"Watch my back" Llorrin told Jeredan, not even waiting for an acknowledgement. He reached out and grabbed the wheel, slowly trying to bring_the Lady Irewyth_ closer to the second frigate. He knew if he did this too fast, he'd risk toppling one of the ships or smashing the hull.

LLorrin used his reserve pistol to fire a shot into the air, hoping to catch some attention from the men fighting on the other of the deck. From what he could see from here, they were as hard-pressed as his own men.

"BRING THEM SIDE TO SIDE. NOW!" he shouted at the top of the lungs, and he kept repeating his orders until one of the footmen on Chuth's ship caught on to his orders. The man grabbed the wheel and started bringing the frigate closer to his. Soon the ships were practically touching each other, denying the Naga the ability to crawl onto the ships from both sides. Any of the vile serpents that didn't make it out fast enough got caught in between them and were then crushed excruciatingly slowly. Their cries were like music to Llorin's ears.

His smile had only just spread his lips when something hit into him and sent him crashing into the railing, nearly throwing him overboard. As he sunk down he saw a Siren slithering up the quarterdeck. Llorrin was strangely fascinated by the creature. It was simultaneously beautiful and twisted in appearance, almost like they had been something… different in a past life. The creature's lower arms were weaving another spell to send at him, while the extra pair of arms held a large glaive in defence. Even as he drew closer Llorrin realized he wasn't going to make it before the Siren finished casting her spell. Instinctively Llorrin dropped himself onto his left shoulder and rolled. Something _cold_ passed right over his shoulder, missing him by a shred.

The Siren seemed to be smiling even as Llorrin came up and found himself close enough to strike at her. As he tried to strike out, he felt he couldn't, and he quickly realized he'd been so fixed on her spell casting that he'd lost sight of her extra pair of arms. The Naga's glaive was holding his cutlass down, and her upper arms were weaving another spell. An icy hue appeared around her. Left without another option, Llorrin ignored the spell and punched, his hand passing through the icy barrier. A painfully cold sensation passed through him as he felt icy teeth biting into his arm across its entire length, but he didn't let it stop him. His fist pushed deeply into the Siren's side. Encouraged by the shocked expression on her face, Llorrin punched again, and felt the pressure on his cutlass weakening. He immediately swooped the sword up under the Naga's defence and cut her across the stomach. With a shrill cry, the Siren collapsed.

He was granted no reprieve, for another Myrmidon, one far larger than the ones he had already faced, came slithering up the stairs. The creature's massive glaive missed his body by inches, and he quickly turned to face it. The second stab was caught on his cutlass, creating a deadlock, but no matter how hard he pushed, the beast wouldn't back down. What was even more disturbing, was that it didn't look like the Naga was using all of his strength. Where the hell was Jeredan?

_"Surrrenderrr the drrruuiid"_ the Myrmidon hissed. _"Giivve him uupp, and we mmay sssparre yyourr livesss."_

"Go. To. Hell!" Llorrin growled, reaching down to pick up the Siren's fallen glaive. He stabbed the glaive into the creature's belly, but not without enough force to kill it. The Myrmidon shook his trident violently in response, sending Llorrin's cutlass flying from his hand. He backed down quickly and grabbed the glaive with both hands, pointing it at the Myrmidon like a spear to keep him at bay. It initially held him back, but when the Myrmidon started taking powerful, calculated swings at the glaive Llorrin had to back up to avoid being disarmed.

It was only then that the Myrmidon's words began to dawn on him.

_They're here for Elduin,_ Llorrin realized as he evaded the glaive once more. He was quickly running out of options, but then he got a crazy idea. Feigning right and then going left, he jumped the railing and pushed off against it, bringing the bottom of the glaive down to break his fall as he sailed through the air. The landing on the lower deck was harsh, but it felt better than what the Myrmidon had been about to do with him. To his dismay, he saw the hatch to the lower deck had been opened!

_No!_ Llorrin thought. Elduin was almost completely defenseless down there, and so was Carekon. The tide of the Naga had been slowed down by his maneuvre, but the tough creatures were still pressing the crew hard, and Llorrin had to fight to get to the hatch. By the time he'd gotten closer he was fearing it was already too late, when he suddenly caught a Mur'gul flying out of the hatch, carried by naught but the wind. The creature was hurtled off the side of the ship and Elduin came running out of the hatch immediately after. He was wounded, one hand pressed to his side.

"Elduin!" Llorrin shouted, diving under a Siren's glaive and attempting to get closer to the druid, who looked like he was assessing the situation. A lot of the Naga were already breaking away from their fights to swarm towards him. The druid didn't wait, but instead transformed, and quickly flew up into the air. Time seemed to slow. Musket shots filled the air, and Llorrin saw Elduin begin to lose altitude and spiral down towards the sea surface. Llorrin's heart sunk. Time seemed to slow. The druid's body transformed even as it fell and left a trail of blood in the air, and was then swallowed by the sea.

"No!" Llorrin cried out. He fought himself a way towards the left side of the ship, evading as many opponents as he could, but by the time he'd reached the railing the only sign of Elduin was a small ripple on the water where he had fallen. Llorrin was alarmed by a sudden painful pounding he experienced, realizing it was his heart.

"No!" he shouted again, his eyes glazing over. Feeling a presence behind him, Llorrin spun around and cut a running Mur'gul with so much force the beast's upper body was sent flying while its legs continued forward until they crashed into the railing. He blinked a few times after he realized the creature hadn't been attacking him, but had rather been making haste to get off the ship. The haze lifted from his eyes and he could see the Naga were beginning to retreat, diving headlong into the sea. A cheer went up from the marines, who thought they had driven the creatures off, but Llorrin did not join them. His eyes were voids, staring right past the corpses covering the deck. His body was frozen, and he felt like he couldn't even open his mouth to breathe.

Llorrin didn't even notice he was bleeding.


	8. Scars Are Forever

_"I want to know who fired that shot, and I want to know it__**now**__!"_

Shouting was painful. Llorrin could feel blood tickling out of his wounds, making his bandages wet and sticky. Their irritating touch only served to rile his anger further.

Llorrin paced back and forth behind his desk, staring his subjects down. He couldn't recall having ever been this beside himself. The looks he was given told him his companions were as alienated by his anger as he was, but there was nothing he could do to help it. Chuth, Irewyth and Wheann all stared at him as though they no longer recognized him, and he was certain Carekon would have done the same if he were here. The only one who didn't seem to care was Jeredan, but that didn't come as a surprise. The bastard could count himself lucky Llorrin had more important things to do than having him be thrown overboard for disobeying orders.

It didn't come as a surprise that Chuth was the first to open his mouth.

"I'm tellin' ya son, Cap'n Adane's orders were _clear_! That... _elf_ was tryin' ta _escape_, he must'a been _lyin'_! We need ta _return_!"

If looks could kill, Llorrin's eyes would have frozen Chuth and blasted him into a million pieces right where he stood. Llorrin had never felt so alone. He knew he could've expected this reaction, especially from Chuth. Only he knew why the druid had really fled, but who was going to believe a Naga warrior had actually spoken to him? Llorrin wished they could've taken one of the Naga alive to confirm what the Myrmidon had said, but they had all fled or died. He changed the subject.

"I want to know who fired that shot" Llorrin said coldly. "Was it you?"

Chuth's frown ran deeper than ever before, his eyes matching Llorrin's gaze. The sniper's jaw clenched.

"Does it even matter who shot 'im? Orders 'r orders and orders were t' shoot that bastard if he tried ta run, an' run he did."

Llorrin resisted the urge to punch Chuth. Narrowly. The look the sour marine Chuth had appointed as his second-in-command wasn't helping either.

"Why do you think they retreated as soon as Elduin hit the water? It was _him_ they were after! He must have realized they were coming for him..."

Llorrin's voice caught in his throat.

_Why didn't he tell me? He could have told me..._

Wheann raised his hands diplomatically, stepping in between Llorrin and Chuth.

"Wait a moment, Llorrin. The Naga have attacked us before, what makes you so sure it was Elduin they were after?" he asked, cautiously.

_You shouldn't even be here_ Llorrin thought as he looked at the half-elf. No doubt Irewyth had simply brought Wheann along to insult hm.

"One of the Myrmidons told me" he said, breaking eye contact. He realized how unconvincing that must have sounded. The face Irewyth made told him as much.

Chuth's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Are you insane, boy!"

It wasn't a question. Llorrin slammed his fists into his desk as he leaned closer to Chuth, knocking over his ink in the process. His wounds stung and he was certain his bandages must have turned bright red by this point.

"He did it to save us! He saved us all!" Llorrin insisted, his voice heavy with emotion. He experienced Irewyth's gaze upon like the edge of a knife upon his skin, but didn't care.

Chuth stepped closer defiantly and slammed a fist on the desk as well, raising his chin in an attempt to make up for his shorter height. Llorrin could feel the sniper's disgusting breathe against his skin, but didn't flinch.

"The only reason he tried ta escape, was because he saw an opportunity ta _run! He was lyin'!_ We need ta call off this mission! We'd be _disobeyin' orders_ if we don't! We'd be branded _deserters!"_

Llorrin could see it now. The man was terrified. The reason the sniper had never risen through the ranks during his time with the navy was all too clear to him now. Llorrin cursed himself for ever believing Chuth could change. Men like him were followers, unable to take decisions when it mattered. They lacked the mindset that allowed one to aspire to greatness. Llorrin suddenly felt very calm. He had nothing to fear from someone like that.

"_I'm_ in command here, and _I'll_ be the final judge of Elduin's intentions, and if you disobey my orders, _I'll_ be the one to brand you as a deserter. You think I'd risk your lives if I wasn't so sure about this? We're not going back. We sail on" he said slowly, enjoying the sight of Chuth's face paling. He thought he saw Irewyth smile for a split second.

Chuth backed down a little, but didn't give up just yet.

"Ye let that druid poison yer mind, son. All yer interested in is yer own petty vengeance against ta Horde. Ye'll get us all killed in ta end" he growled.

Chuth's words no longer reached him like they used to. This was just like their old discussions, simply on a different scale of importance. The sniper just wouldn't listen to logic. He had assumed Chuth was as eager to face the Horde and avenge Daelin's death as he was, but right now it seemed to him Chuth simply _wanted_ to oppose him out of spite, cowardice, or perhaps something else. Who could tell? Maybe it was just force of habit. Llorrin wondered what was stopping him from flogging the guy for insubordination right then and there.

"Commander Llorrin" Jeredan suddenly said, only right on time. The respectful way he addressed him was surprising enough to gain his attention.

"If this… _dwarf_ doesn't want to follow your orders, I could always take over his job" he offered, looking down at Chuth with contempt.

Were it not that he had lost all faith in Jeredan since the battle with the Naga, Llorrin might have actually accepted that offer. Relieving Chuth of his office seemed like the logical thing to do at first, but doing so would mean admitting he had made a mistake to everyone, and most importantly, to Irewyth. Demoting someone who had otherwise been doing quite well at the first signs of defiance didn't seem like the kind of thing a strong leader would do, and Llorrin had to make sure to keep the crew on his side.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Jeredan. I'm sure Chuth and I understand each other perfectly" Llorrin said calmly, keeping his eyes on Chuth, who had begun to clench his fists, but at least kept his mouth shut.

Wheann tried to play the diplomat again.

"I'm not picking sides, but it's true you're taking a big risk here, Llorrin. Captain Adane won't be very happy if it turns out you were wrong. I hope you've thought this through."

"I _have_ thought it through. Believe me. The course is set" Llorrin said, using one of captain Adane's sayings on purpose. Certainly acting more like_him_ would instill some respect in his men. He sat down and gestured towards the doorway. Only then did he notice the ink stuck to his knuckles and desk. He sighed, realizing he shouldn't let his anger get the better of him like this, but anger was the one alternative he had had to bursting out in tears.

"Yer gonna regret this, son" Chuth promised, but his voice already seemed distant, insignificant. The sniper turned and left, quickly followed by his sour-looking cronie. Llorrin resisted the urge of throwing something at them.

Jeredan regarded him with a strange kind of respect before turning away, and Wheann looked worried above all as he stepped outside. He caught a glimpse of Irewyth's familiar smirk, but he couldn't tell whether it was meant to encourage or mock him.

Llorrin didn't sleep very well over the course of the next few days, so he wasn't surprised to find himself lying awake at night yet again. Llorrin could feel his heart beating all the way through to his eardrums, beating, and hurting like he'd been running through the Tanarian desert with a pack of Silithids on his heels for miles. He simply couldn't get himself to relax, and getting frustrated with it only made it worse. His restlessness reminded him of the night before he went on his first sea journey, but he could only wish something as innocent as excitement was the cause of it right now. Deep breaths, trying to think of other things, forcing himself to lie still for minutes... nothing helped.

He'd thought he'd spent a lot of time talking to Elduin, but only now did he realize just how much had remained unsaid, how many questions were still left unanswered. For one thing, he'd missed the opportunity to ask the druid about the storm, the very storm that could have cost all of them their lives. Surely Elduin would've known something about that, surely the rest of the world must have been affected in some way, as well...

Elduin's grim fate wasn't the only reason that cost him his night's rest. The men, too, were behaving strangely. His first act since Chuth had promised retribution was to start exchanging crewmembers between the frigates on a day to day basis to keep Chuth from gaining too much control over his crew. That some of Chuth's personality seemed to have rubbed off on his own subjects wasn't such a surprise, but Llorrin's greatest concern was how some of his _own_ men didn't greet him as heartily as they had used to, or how some of them even shied away from conversation...

_Maybe it's just me_ he thought. He hadn't exactly been in a good mood himself since the battle with the Naga, so perhaps his own behaviour influenced others. Certainly a few rumours of his tirade after Elduin's death would have gotten out. Llorrin figured he probably shouldn't be too hard on the men. They, too, had lost comrades, and it wasn't the first time. He made a face when he realised this reasoning wasn't exactly making him feel any better.

Llorrin had just resigned to the prospect of another sleepless night when he heard light footsteps right outside his cabin. He reached for his cutlass, which he always kept within arm's reach, when he heard an urgent knock on the door. Figuring someone who came to kill him would probably not have the decency to knock, he left the cutlass behind. He only felt how tired he was when he tried to climb out of bed, which made his inability to catch any sleep all the more frustrating. Llorrin slept in his trousers and kept the rest of his clothes near in case of a night attack, but he didn't care to put them on now. Whoever was outside was already knocking again, and Llorrin was already planning to tell him off. Even though his thoughts were grey and sad, Llorrin still wanted to be alone with them for now.

He pulled open the door and was confronted by the last person he'd been expecting to see.

"Irewth?!" Llorrin asked.

She pretty much barged right over him on her way inside. Llorrin quickly shut the door, understanding from the way she moved that she didn't want to be seen. He didn't exactly want to be seen with her either.

"What... What's the matter?" he asked, slowly walking to the middle of the cabin, where she had stopped. Talking to her again felt strange.

"Llorrin, it's... it's terrible" Irewyth stammered, with her back still to him.

"What's the matter? You'd better have a good reason for being here" Llorrin said as he walked around her, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be angry with her. Part of him was tired of the silence in between them, but she didn't need to know that.

Irewyth clenched her fists at her side in a frustrated gesture, and Llorrin couldn't help but notice that she looked vulnerable somehow.

"Why do you have to be like that?" she said.

"Like what?" Llorrin said flatly, not about to give in concerning his attitude towards her. He wanted to appear more sure about it than he felt, at the very least.

Irewyth frowned and crossed her arms. If she had slapped him right then and there, Llorrin wouldn't have felt surprised.

"Like _that_" she said.

"Let's get this over with. Why are you here?" Llorrin sighed.

"I'm afraid."

That left Llorrin momentarily speechless. Her voice had been but a fleeting, fragile whisper, and only now did he really open his eyes to the paleness of her skin, the terror in her gaze. Seeing her like this scared him more than a new Naga attack would've.

"What?" he asked after he'd gotten past his initial surprise.

"Look, Llorrin, ever since Chuth made that threat, I've been concerned about what might happen-"

"We both know Chuth, Ire. All talk, no wa-"

"NO! Listen to me! Wheann has better hearing than either of us-"

_You'd be surprised._

"- and he came to me just now and told me he'd heard Chuth and a few others talking about a _mutiny_. They believe you're making the wrong choice trusting Elduin, that going through with the mission is going to get us all hanged in the end. They... They were..."

She gasped for breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

"They were discussing how to _'get rid'_ of certain people they think are either too loyal to you or too dangerous to still be alive by the time they make their move. Jeredan was mentioned, and Carekon, Wheann himself and... and me as well. Wheann didn't like to admit it to me, but it sounded like they were planning to _murder_ us all before they take control" she very nearly whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Llorrin frowned. If this was true, he had a massive problem on his hands... but he had difficulties trusting Irewyth.

"I see. You had him spying for you. Then why is it _you're_ here, and not Wheann?" he asked her.

"Because I told Wheann to keep an eye on them. If we miss anything they say it might mean our end" Irewyth said.

Llorrin looked for support on his desk, unsure what to say. He couldn't be any more confused, with her, and with this situation. Finally, he shook his head.

"Why are you telling me this? I'd think you would want to get rid of me as well."

She took a step closer to him. There was a certain tenderness in her eyes he was unaccustomed to.

"That's not true. _I'm on your side, Llorrin._ I may not care about the orcs as much as you do, but I know about your loyalty to Captain Adane, and I know you wouldn't do anything to betray his trust. Besides, you don't think I want to spend the rest of my life exploring deserts, now do you?" Irewyth asked, smiling for the first time since she'd entered the cabin. At least her acting in a more familiar way made him feel a little bit more comfortable. Sadly, the smile faded soon.

"I meant it when I said I was afraid. The way you've been treating me, I didn't think I could even defend myself against Chuth and get away with it" she said, shivering and struggling to control her emotions.

"Irewyth..." Llorrin said, more concerned than ever when he saw a tear rolling down her cheek. He extended a hand, but quickly pulled it back again.

"You hurt me, you know. I don't know what I did to deserve all this hate, to be put below someone like _Chuth_. I was merely being honest to you. Isn't honesty supposed to be a _good_ thing?" Irewyth sobbed.

_Maybe she's right_ Llorrin thought, suddenly unable to look her in the eye while another part of him was screaming in his mind to tell her she was the last person who should be saying anything about honesty.

_She's looking for my approval to crush this so-called mutiny. I could see her mistaking some drunk banter about me being incomptent for talks of mutiny if it suited her, and who knows what she'll do if I say yes_ Llorrin thought, shivering involuntarily.

_Then again, can I really afford the risk of not trusting her?_

"Look, Irewyth, I'm going to sort this out. First thing in the morning, I'll go over to Chuth's frigate and ask him what all of this is about. I won't mention your involvement, but-"

"No!" Irewyth shouted, interrupting him once again, her voice at its breaking point.

"You don't get it, do you?! I know they're planning a mutiny, and I know what you'd find. Do you think it will earn you the men's respect if they see you prosecuting crew members at the slightest hint of defiance? Everyone will just think you're paranoid! You'll lose your grip on your men and your cause will simply sink further into oblivion! If you reveal the mutineers and a fight breaks out, there will be a bloodbath, and there will only be losers no matter who survives it! If I belonged to the Horde, that's the outcome I would prefer."

Llorrin stared at her for a couple of moments, his thoughts stopping as Irewyth stood there, panting heavily. Her ferocity was shocking. Llorrin had never imagined her to be this devoted to the overall cause, he'd always just believed she was only interested in herself, and her personal advancement in the world... She looked more... vulnerable somehow, and almost afraid of what Llorrin was going to do with that knowledge. Llorrin tried hard to focus on the matter at hand instead of her, forcing his eyes away from her lips as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Nevertheless, he still noticed how she was trembling, slightly.

_Those brutes would probably be too stupid to realize it themselves, but she's right, every death puts us a little further away from defeating them..._ Llorrin thought wryly.

"What you need," she said, slowly, "is for me to take care of this. Everyone knows about the... problems between us, they'll never suspect me to take your side without good reason. The men will be more easily convinced I acted to prevent disaster."

"Are you sure? Did no one see you come here?"

Irewyth smiled, but only a bit. "No," she said with a hint of pride. "Guards tend to get distracted by sudden 'sounds' in the water when I'm sneaking around."

_At least she didn't kill anyone on her way here_ Llorrin thought, quite relieved but still unsure on how to proceed. Her words held merit, but he was torn between stubbornly holding on to his grudge or believing her and safeguarding his destiny... while at the same time risking the lives of some of his comrades. It took him a while to make up his mind, time Irewyth took to study every inch of his face.

"Look, I'm just going to ask you to further monitor this... this 'mutiny'. If you do... anything to stop it, I won't call you out on it, but I hope you'll employ the necessary discretion, and only use force if it's absolutely necessary" Llorrin finally told her, feeling horrible inside.

Killing in battle was one thing, but making uncertain decisions about the life and death of comrades was a whole different thing. If Daelin was genuinely dead, and if his fleet had perished with him, no message would ever reach them. For all Llorrin knew everyone else could just have assumed they were all dead. They _had_ to go to Tiragarde, and then Theramore, to find out the truth. They simply had to. Perhaps, if Daelin was still alive, he would appreciate the reinforcements. Perhaps...

_No_ Llorrin thought. He'd long ago given up on the thought of the Admiral still being alive, there was no point in digging it up now. It was a futile attempt. Nothing could make him feel better about the decision he'd just made. Irewyth suddenly shuffled closer to him. All of Llorrin's senses were on edge, but nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.

"Hold me" she whispered.

"What?" Llorrin asked.

"I already told you I'm afraid. It hasn't changed. Please hold me" she repeated, wrapping her arms around Llorrin without even waiting for him to agree.

He hugged her awkwardly, surprised to suddenly be this close to her, and unsure if it was what he wanted. Since Irewyth was almost as tall as he was and he could feel how strong she was simply from the way her body felt and how she was holding him, it was actually a quite intimidating experience. For a short while, he didn't know what to say. With a shock he realized how long it had been since he'd gotten this close to a woman, made aware by her touch how he had almost forgotten what they felt like.

"I didn't think you could be afraid. Not admit it, at least" he finally said, trying to sound light-hearted. It didn't work. She tightened her grip on him.

"I used to think so myself. I've been afraid for a long time now. Ever since I was forced to leave Dalaran, and joined the navy, I've felt alone" Irewyth entrusted him with a heart-breaking sob that seemed to carry over the pain it held straight into Llorrin's being.

_Sure you have_ Llorrin thought nevertheless, unable not to think of Wheann.

"I miss my friends. I miss hanging out with the other girls. Here, everyone just looks at me like a pack of ogres that have just spotted a piece of meat. Can you imagine what that's like?"

"Not really" Llorrin had to admit, aware he was probably at least partially guilty of that himself. Part of him wanted to feel sorry for her, but at the same time he had always thought she liked the attention. Maybe that was just an act, her way of coping with it. His eyes strayed down, looking over her body, and he wondered if she really should go dressed like that if it bothered her that much. Then again, she wasn't overexposed by a long shot either, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to look good. He was still filled with doubt though, and made no efforts to hide it.

All his thoughts were washed away when he suddenly felt the hot touch of her lips on his neck. He almost jumped and his first instinct was to pull away, but she held him more tightly as her lips and tongue moved against his skin, turning his muscles to jelly. She picked her chapeau off her head and dropped it to the floor, and her boots were quickly left behind as well on her way of pushing Llorrin towards the bed.

"What are you doing?" Llorrin heard himself ask, feeling himself wanting to back away from her, but she held him tighter, bringing her face close to his. Her hands ran over his sides and back up, slowly rubbing some life back into his sore muscles.

"You're under a lot of stress, Llorrin. Just feel how tense your body is. I'm tense too" she breathed into his ear, taking his hands and guiding them across her body. He realized she was right, he could feel it now too. Her body almost seemed frozen, like she was paralyzed by fear.

"Feel me" she whispered, locking her eyes onto his and holding his hands down on her body, slowly exhaling against him. "I haven't been this scared in all my life, and I know you feel the same. We both need to... relax."

The seductive sound of her voice left no mistake what she meant, but Llorrin didn't feel relaxed at all, and he was certain she could feel his heart beating in his chest. When her soft chest pressed against him he realized it was already too late to go back. Before he knew it Irewyth had him down on the bed, her knees resting across his thighs. She touched him through the fabric of his trousers, running her hand up and down until she was sure he was ready for her. Her free hand untied her tunic behind her back while the other remained where it was. She slipped out of her clothes with the agility of a panther, extending one leg behind her at a time.

Llorrin was breathless, admiring every silky, smooth inch of Irewyth's skin as she was untying his trousers. Seeing her naked was somehow not as shocking as he had always imagined it. Without her majestic clothes, she appeared more... human, less threatening. Her brown hair flowed freely over shoulders, strengthening that impression. The moonlight seeping in through the windows gleamed on her skin and only accentuated her beauty.

She pushed herself up just long enough to slide Llorrin's trousers down, and then slowly slid down, getting more and more of her hot skin in touch with his. He could feel her slithery warmth against him as she moved back and forth, and felt guilty when he found himself answering her kiss and embracing her in response. She had different plans, raising up out of his grasp and moving him inside of her before his arms could close behind her back.

She moved slowly, rhytmically, and accelerated only slowly. Her head dropped back and she closed her eyes, and despite the pleasure she was giving him Llorrin couldn't help but wonder if her pleasure was faked. He reached up towards her and she leaned closer. He slowly circled her nipples with his thumbs, applying a little more pressure with every pass. Her eyes opened and she smiled, leaning even closer. Her smile seemed genuine, so he kept doing it, even though he felt like he was making a mistake giving in to her at all.

_Too late to turn back_ Llorrin thought, sliding his hands down to her hips and trying to slow her down, keep her from finishing it too soon. If he was going to make this mistake, he figured he might as well make the most of it. Perhaps if he derived enough pleasure from this moment it could take the edge off the regret he'd surely be made to feel later.

She either mistook the meaning behind his touch or saw right through it, and slipped off of him, taking Llorrin's hands and pulling him up to his knees, to her level. She kissed him briefly on the neck, and then the mouth and then her lips began to slowly slide down, leaving a wet trail across his smooth skin. When Llorrin realized what she was about to do, he knew he wasn't going to hold out for much longer.

As soon as her lips closed he knew they were nearing the end. Llorrin let his breath escape slowly, giving up the fight, but she didn't stop there. It felt like a full minute had passed before her face came up again, and still she managed to surprise him with her kiss. She crossed her arms behind him almost simultaneously, to keep him close. He twisted out of her near suffocating grasp, moving his lips to Irewyth's neck, then her chest, her left breast, side, hip and thigh. He slid down the bed to get a better angle, catching a glimpse of her face right before he began to return the favour.

His hands reached behind her, touching her soft behind. He used his lips, tongue and even his nose but he could barely hear her, or feel her moving. Her hand slid down the back of his head, closing into a fist as she grabbed his hair roughly. He thought he caught a glimpse of an almost ominous smile on her lips. Llorrin slipped his hands to her hips, pulling his thumbs over her skin to spread her lips as he continued on. Soon, he could hear her soft moans and feel her body slowly shifting, until her entire body shuddered and her hand let go of his hair, sliding down the back of his head. He felt her body calm down under his hands, and felt his own body doing the same.

Though it was over, Llorrin felt more guilty now than he had when he had first given in to her. Guilty for wanting more. He contemplated asking her to stay, but realized that was probably a really bad idea, even apart from the fact she'd probably say no. When she had regained her breath, Irewyth slipped off of the bed and went to gather her clothes.

"What did we just do?" Llorrin muttered as he scooped up his trousers, more to himself than her.

Irewyth was standing with her back towards him, and though he had a hunch she was doing it intentionally to show off her well-shaped rear, he took in the sight anyway, noticing the marks his fingers had left. Only when she looked over her shoulder to answer him did his eyes stray up.

"It's called having sex" she said, rolling her eyes. "We both needed it and you know it."

Irewth finished putting on her clothes and walked towards the door, but quickly stopped on her way there.

"Please don't make too much of it, Llorrin."

"I wasn't going to" Llorrin said, unsure whether or not he regretted saying that.

"I hope you don't think less of me. When I hear the sailors brag about the amount of women they've had, the one who brags the most always gets the most respect, but oh my, if they hear about a woman who has had several partners..." Irewyth said irritatedly.

"I don't think any less of you" Llorrin said quickly.

"I did say I liked you, remember" Irewyth smiled.

_You said you didn't 'mind' me_ Llorrin thought, remembering the words she'd spoken that night all too well, but for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on he let it slip for now.

"Just don't go ahead and feel too good about yourself now. I'll admit you're prettier than most of the sailors, but you're also the only one in our little navy with a private place to sleep... well, except for Chuth" she winked.

That genuinely evoked a laugh from Llorrin, and he was happy she joined in.

"Irewyth" Llorrin then said, nevertheless desperately wanting to change the subject. "What about the mutiny?"

He thought he caught a glint in her eye.

"I'll take care of it."

Then she left. Llorrin didn't feel like he'd done anything to deserve it, but he slept well that night.


	9. Fading Visions

The mist was so thick Llorrin could scarcely see the ship's bow from the quarterdeck. The wind was fierce and it had started to rain. It wasn't quite bad enough to be called a storm, but Llorrin had nevertheless gotten soaked within half an hour. He wished he could retreat and put on some dry clothes, but there was no way he was going to give any members of the crew an opportunity of claiming he was 'afraid of a little water' or something along those lines. Under normal circumstances he'd be lenient enough to accept friendly jabs, but, knowing what he knew, there was no way he was going to let anything undermine his already shaky leadership.

He frowned with concern, desperately trying to keep a straight course while at the same time keeping another eye on his compass. Thick droplets covered the glass and his hair stuck to his face, water dripping into his eyes from the ends of the strands and blinding him further. He didn't have any hands free to do away with it though, and was paranoid he'd lose the right course if he let go of the wheel even for a second.

Figuring it wasn't going to do him any good if he was looking at the compass without seeing anything, Llorrin wiped the compass against his soaked trousers and shook his head quickly, trying to shake off as many droplets as he could. He wondered how Jeredan, who was at his side, could remain so calm. If he wasn't so preoccupied, Llorrin would tell the guy to wipe the stupid, uncharacteristic smirk off his face. There was no way the crusader could be enjoying getting his armour all wet, now could he?

"What put you in such a good mood?" Llorrin asked him, too irritated to stay quiet. He had a hunch the trouble he was having was what was amusing the bastard so much, and if Irewyth hadn't told him the mutineers were plotting to kill Jeredan, he would've distrusted him, too.

"Oh, nothing in particular" Jeredan said slyly, glancing at Llorrin's neck.

"So, how did you like her?" he asked all of a sudden.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" Llorrin said hastily, too busy to even look at him, though his heart skipped a beat.

"I don't suppose Carekon did that," Jeredan mocked him, pointing out the love bite Irewyth had left.

Llorrin's face flushed red and he pulled his collar closer, nearly dropping his compass. Jeredan chuckled.

"I knew it" he grinned.

_I hate you_ Llorrin thought, trying to think of a better comeback.

"Jealous? I suppose you're still frustrated we didn't bring any horses aboa-" he started, when a call from the mainyard interrupted him. In situations like these, men were stationed from the crow's nest to the lowest yardarm, but to keep an eye on the sails as to pass through orders and info.

"Cap'n! Steer right! Pete says 'e can't see ta other ship, an' he's in the damn crow's nest!"

"Too dangerous! If we don't see them, we might bump into them if we try to get too close. We'll find them back once this mist clears!" Jeredan shouted back before Llorrin could do as much as open his mouth, so loudly he imagined his voice sending a ripple over the water.

"Who put _you_ in command?" Llorrin scowled, even though he saw merit in Jeredan's words. Though he was struggling, he was pretty sure he'd kept a straight course, and ever since the Naga attack they had kept the ships close together. What the hell was Chuth doing? The sniper was supposed to be _better_ at this than he was! Llorrin could feel his heartbeat rising. Was this part of the sniper's plan, the first stage of the mutiny? Was he going to suddenly appear from the mist and come ramming into him? Llorrin's thoughts raced, trying to think of every possibility.

The mutineers couldn't have possibly foreseen this weather, but they could have already had a plan ready to get separated inconspicuously, or just made it up on a whim. Whatever else could be said about him, Chuth was definitely an opportunist, and an impulsive one at that.

Even though he didn't want to, Llorrin felt himself worrying about Irewyth, who was all alone out there. Well, she had Wheann, but since he'd been in bed with Irewyth, Llorrin didn't really think about the half-elf that much anymore. Wheann was also a mediocre fighter at best, who would most likely do a poor job defending her. Llorrin realized it was himself he should be worried about and forced his thoughts away from Irewyth. The mist hadn't given them the opportunity to make another exchange, and there were still some of Chuth's men aboard… and some of Llorrin's on board the other ship, as well.

_Shit_ Llorrin thought. Any stress he'd relieved last night had already begun to seep back into his body. The mist covered a lot of the deck as well, and he realized this would be the ideal time for the mutineers to plot a murder... or possibly even more than one. It was harrowing, but Jeredan was the only man Llorrin could trust. He contemplated sending him away to patrol the deck, but who would watch his back, then? And what was he going to tell Jeredan? That he feared there were mutineers on board? He couldn't say that unless he was absolutely sure, because he feared the crusader would go into a killing frenzy if he saw the opportunity. Llorrin had to consider Jeredan hadn't killed anything for a few weeks now, and was probably getting thirsty for blood as a result. Then Jeredan opened his mouth, probably to make another sly remark, but this time Llorrin, who didn't even want to hear what the crusader had to say, spoke first.

"Go patrol the deck" he told him, quickly trying to think of a reason. "I want to be sure none of the men are slacking off, thinking I can't see them from here" he tried, hoping it sounded convincing enough.

Jeredan's face indicated his reason for sending him away sounded as weird as Llorrin himself felt it did, but the crusader seemed content enough at the prospect of getting to boss people around to do it anyway.

With him gone, Llorrin could think more clearly. When the rain stopped, he ordered some of his most loyal men and some of the more dubious crew members that had come from Chuth's boat to light torches and swing them from side to side above their heads, to serve as some sort of beacons for the other ship. He even ordered a few men to climb up to the masts with torches to reach a higher vantage point. Perhaps Chuth's crew would see the lights through the mist and sail towards it.

_Unless that bigoted fool thinks they're ghost lights, of course_ Llorrin thought grudgingly.

No matter how small the odds, it would be worth it, because it served a double purpose. If anyone killed any of those men, Llorrin would see the lights go out, and if by any chance the men appointed to swing the torches were mutineers, he'd be able to tell if they left their spots by the torchlight. The mist had become so thick his men were just vague shapes running around on the deck.

His plan didn't appear to be working, because they didn't see a sign of the other frigate, but he told the men to keep swinging the torches even though he was endangering their supply. Time passed for what must have been at least a few days, yet the mist didn't disappear. He wondered if this phenomenon had anything to do with the same thing that had caused the huge storm, or if it was the cause of an enemy creeping up on them. He only got more to worry about. At night, one of the men from Chuth's crew disappeared, which made Llorrin even more paranoid. Everyone assumed the man had fallen overboard and drowned, since at least one marine had reported hearing a cry and a splash at night, but Llorrin feared the man could have faked his own death and was creeping around the ship, or that there was indeed simply a killer on board, seeing knives in the dark everywhere he looked. He resisted the urge of ordering Jeredan to guard his door at night – the humiliation of having him of all people babysit him would be too great, and there wasn't anyone else he could completely trust – but regretted it soon, as he got even less sleep than the nights before that.

On what he thought was the third day, Llorrin was awakened by the sound of men cheering. He cursed himself when he realized he'd dozed off on top of the wheel. The mist had lifted, somewhat, enough for him to at least see his crew clearly. They were jumping up and down, shouting and pointing. Llorrin ran his fingers over his eyes, so tired his head felt like it weighed a thousand tons. Llorrin just hoped none of the men had seen him asleep. He shivered, realizing how vulnerable he'd been. Llorrin walked down to the lower deck, a smile slipping onto his face when he saw what the commotion was all about. Not so far away from them, he could see the silhouette of the other frigate beginning to appear out of the fading mist.

"Captain! You steered us right towards them!" one of the more veteran marines shouted. The man looked like he wanted to hug him. Llorrin was very grateful he did not.

"Oh, you know, gut instinct" he shrugged, managing a smile. Right now he didn't even feel bad accepting the undeserved compliment.

"Beginner's luck, more likely!" a tall sailor bellowed, slapping Llorrin on the back. It was well-meant, so Llorrin simply laughed along with the others. One thing he hadn't taken from Captain Adane was forcing the men to take him too seriously.

Everything quieted down as the ship came out of the mist, close enough now to discern people's faces. Llorrin put his hands on his hips as his eyes searched the deck, looking for Irewyth. He smiled once he caught wind of her face.

"You'd better get that look off your face" he heard Jeredan whisper.

Llorrin's smile melted like snow for the sun.

"Why?" he asked with a face like a thief that had just been caught, a creeping feeling tingling up his back like a rattlesnake.

"Look up" Jeredan said, giving him a nudge and pointing up.

Llorrin followed his gaze and stared up at the mast. His stomach twisted. Several corpses were strung up from the two highest yardarms, swaying gently in the wind.

Llorrin almost forgot to breathe. After the initial shock had passed, the deck erupted into chaos. Soon, the boats were close enough together to cross, and Llorrin's bewildered crew quickly began to seek out their mates among the other crew, too impatient to wait for anyone to speak up and give an explanation. Llorrin didn't try to stop them. From this distance, it was difficult to even tell who had been hung. No doubt everyone feared they'd lost close friends.

Pushing through the mobs, Llorrin quickly found Irewyth, grabbing her rather roughly by the arm and pulling her away from the men, afraid even more chaos could break out, afraid of the reactions these deaths could provoke, especially in case Irewyth had had something to do with them… and he was almost certain she did. He was so focused on her he barely noticed Jeredan trailing him like a guard dog. When they were far enough away from the ruckus he stopped and put her in front of him, and got surprised by how smug she looked. The look in her eyes was downright unsettling, but he wasn't going to shy away from her now.

"What the hell happened? Where's Chuth? This isn't what I had in mind when I told you you could _protect_ yourself, Irewyth!" Llorrin very nearly screamed, pointing at the corpses behind him.

"Why are you so sure I'm responsible?" Irewyth shrugged nonchalantly.

"Are you?"

"Yes" Irewyth said, giving him an angry look.

"Look, I tried to quell this mutiny at the source first. I had Chuth… fall ill, but that didn't stop him. He kept issuing orders to his right hand man. Even when that guy… took a dive into the sea, someone else simply started visiting him and taking his messages to the mutineers. Wheann told me all about it" she explained.

"''Fell ill'? What the hell did you do to Chuth?" Llorrin asked.

"You probably don't want to know" Irewyth said. It almost sounded like a challenge.

Llorrin bit his lip. "You're right, I don't, but I _have_ to know" he said grudgingly.

Irewyth stepped a little closer to him and lowered her voice. From the corner of his eye, Llorrin could see Jeredan close in a bit, as well.

"All humans have water inside of them" she said, poking Llorrin's belly with her index. The psychotic glare in her eyes sent shivers down his spine. "I inconspiciously froze some of that inside of his body, turned it into shards. To the crew, it simply seemed like he was suffering from scurvy… a real bad case of scurvy at that. "

Llorrin's stomach twisted. They'd lost a lot of comrades to scurvy on their journey, and what Irewyth had done could have only been worse. He was unable to keep the disgust off his face.

"I wasn't going to kill him, not at first" she defended herself, shaking her head innocently. The glare faded like snow for the sun, as if she'd just broken out of a trance. "I was hoping the men would be superstitious enough to believe bad fortune had come his way, because of something bad he'd done, that those who knew about the mutiny would think twice before going on with it. It just didn't work. Is that my fault?"

"So I took it he died… slowly, and in a lot of pain" Llorrin said, unable to look her in the eyes. He'd wished a lot of things upon Chuth in his lifetime, but not this.

"Yes" Irewyth said quickly. "Though I sped up the process a little bit when I realised I couldn't keep him alive."

Llorrin sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't look Irewyth in the face, he just couldn't.

_That damn fool. Why'd he have to make this so difficult? Why? He never took any initiative, but now that he did..._ he thought, clenching his fist.

_It was I that put him there, damnit. All because of Irewyth_ Llorrin thought, feeling his body begin to tremble. _No, because of me. Because of something as childish as spite... I wasn't ready for this_ Llorrin thought, wondering whether he could in turn blame captain Adane for giving him this task. The very realization he'd even considered that alone made him sick. He'd shamed captain Adane's trust. Perhaps he should just sail back as the mutineers had intended, admit his mistake.

_Please give me one reason to feel better about this, Irewyth. Just one_ he thought. He wasn't going to make this day even worse by crying in front of her, in front of his men.

"What about the others?" he asked, frowning as he forced himself to look at her. His voice was hoarse.

"Chuth's men, all of them" Irewyth said, glancing up at the corpses. "Right after we'd chucked Chuth's corpse into the sea, they demand one of theirs become captain in his stead. I denied them that, and took command. They didn't like that. They couldn't prove I had anything to do with their companion's deaths, but I'd certainly put the fear into them. That fear made them stupid, rash. When I told them we weren't going to turn our sails to join back with the rest of the fleet, a couple of the mutineers openly opposed me and questioned my loyalty to the navy."

She smiled cleverly, clearly taking pride in her own cunning.

"_I_ of course saw that as the best of times to question _their_ loyalty, revealing I was onto them… although I didn't mention Chuth or his right hand man were involved. Wheann had already gotten me most of the names, so it was easy to intimidate them. You can't believe how bad liars some were. You could scoop the guilt straight off the mutineers' faces when I informed them what happened to mutineers on my ship. All it took was for one of them to break, and he did" she grinned, ominously.

"There was a bit of a scuffle after the crybaby had revealed the others' names, but nothing too bad. I'd made sure to get me some bodyguards before revealing the mutineers, and Wheann's knifework came in handy, too."

"And so you hanged the survivors?"

Irewyth shook her head.

"No, I hung them all, even those who'd already died. See that one? If you look closely you can see he still has a cut from Wheann's knife across his belly. We actually had to take him back down again and sew up the wound after we'd first hung him, though, as he kept spilling his innards onto the deck. Very unpleasant" she explained with a little scowl.

Llorrin sighed, figuring that by bodyguards she'd probably meant the two tall warriors that had stood at her side when he'd first spotted her. If _this_was truly leadership, he had a lot left to learn... or not to learn, if it were up to him.

"At least that'ss one thing you handled well" he said wryly. He'd feared Irewyth had simply killed all the mutineers without an explanation.

"Hey, you wouldn't have done a better job!" Irewyth bit at him. "You're supposed to thank me! If it weren't for me, you'd probably have a knife in your back right now!"

She turned and walked away. Llorrin was about to call her back, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. A sailor had separated himself from the pack, and was coming towards them with the speed of an arrow.

"Die, you witch!" he cried out, the sound of his sharp voice making everyone look up at him, but the men had been too caught up in conversation to try and stop him. Alerted, Jeredan began to turn, but he seemed about as fast as a snail wearing a chainmail suit, and the sailor slipped right past him. Llorrin's feet were stuck to the ground, as if he'd been frozen in the same way he had been in his nightmares. It felt like there were miles between him and the sailor. He realized he'd already been too late before he even realized it. He caught a blicker of steel, and then it happened. The knife came down, sinking into the area between Irewyth's neck and her shoulder. The sailor pushed the blade down all the way to the hilt, his teeth showing in a dogged grin. Irewyth gasped and slumped forward, her mouth opened in a soundless cry.

"No!" Llorrin cried out, completely disregarding the killer as he surged forward to catch her. From the corner of her eye he saw Jeredan had already grabbed hold of the man. The crusader struck the assassin so hard he flattened his nose in one stroke, but it was too late. The damage was done.

Llorrin had knelt down beside her, holding Irewyth in his arms. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't looking at him. Rather than a look of pain, he saw confusion on her face. Llorrin was too afraid to check if she was still breathing, and couldn't tell whether it was the beating of her heart or his own he felt reverberating in his hand. His breathing was sharp and painful. Every breath he took felt like a knife being jabbed into his heart. The crew had witnessed the assassination, and quickly gathered around in a circle, many of them shouting advice on what to do. None of them made sense to him. Breaking out of his trance, Llorrin looked around and realized there was no one who could do anything to help.

"Get me Carekon!" he shouted at the nearest man.

"But he's still…"

"I DON'T CARE IF HE'S STILL RESTING. GET HER TO HIM!"

The men obeyed, trying to drag her carefully to Carekon. Once she was out of sight his sadness and fear turned into rage, and his eyes fell on Jeredan, who was holding the assassin down. He didn't look at the assassin just yet though. Instead, Llorrin punched Jeredan right in the face.

"Do you have no use at all?! You should've stopped him, you son of a bitch!"

Llorrin regretted punching Jeredan as soon as he was done screaming. It'd felt about the same as slamming his fist into a wall, and he couldn't feel his hand anymore, except for a slight tingling that surrounded it. Jeredan's reaction was also quite the same as that of a wall. Frustrated, Llorrin gave the guy on the ground a sharp kick in his side instead, almost jumping when the bloodied assassin gave off a cry. Considering everything Jeredan had been doing to him, Llorrin had been convinced he was dead.

"Are you one of the mutineers?!" he shouted at the man's face, but the killer didn't answer. He was in as bad a shape as Irewyth, and he, too, looked confused.

"Give me half an hour with this guy, and he'll reveal secrets he wouldn't even tell his mom" Jeredan snarled, pulling the assassin up to his face.

_Torture_ Llorrin thought. The stories he'd heard about what Jeredan had done with some of the orcs he'd caught suddenly seemed much more real. After a moment's hesitation, he gave the crusader a small nod, acknlowleding he could go. Perhaps, if he didn't speak the words, he'd be able to feel less guilty about it later. He looked around. A lot of the crew seemed ready to tear the man apart.

Once the killer had been dragged off, Llorrin realized everyone was looking at him, no doubt hoping their captain would make sense of this all.

"I will speak to you at nightfall" he promised the men. "We've lost enough time already and I don't want us to drift off course. Everyone, get back to work!"

Everyone was surprisingly eager to get back to work. Perhaps returning to their daily routines would restore some sense to the world after everything that had happened. Llorrin followed the trail of blood down to the lower deck, to Carekon's room. The knife was still twisting where his heart was supposed to be as he got closer and closer, quickly spotting two of the men that had dragged Irewyth away at the door. They quickly moved to block his path.

"How is she?" he demanded.

"Alive, but critical. Carekon said he absolutely didn't want to be disturbed" the least pale-faced of the men spoke up.

That wasn't good enough. Llorrin reached for the doorknob, but the marines stopped him.

"Sir! Carekon is still weak. He said that if anyone entered the room and disturbed him, he'd surely die, and Irewyth with him!"

Llorrin jerked his hand back. He hesitated, and the walked away, though he stayed on the upper deck, moving back and forth endlessly. He barely heard the cries of Irewyth's assassin at the other end of the ship as Jeredan went about his business. It didn't interest him. What mattered was Irewyth.

Hours passed, and the cries of the prisoner slowly ebbed away, but the same wasn't true for Llorrin's worries. It was grueling that he couldn't even check how they were doing. For all he knew they were both in there, both dead, and he'd have to take the risk of killing them just to find out. Several of the men used their breaks to come and check on the situation, and Llorrin resolved to lie to them.

He kept repeating they'd both be fine. The men had enough to worry about, and Llorrin knew all too well the prospect alone of losing two more of the company's leaders could be devastating. Though the looks the crewmembers gave him were distant, fearing even, he was grateful for their presence. It was good to know he wasn't alone in this, even if he needed Irewyth more than they did. Remembering his promise to the crew, Llorrin sometimes sent people to check the time for him. The mist had gone, but the light of the sun was slowly beginning to fade. It'd only been a few hours until most of the crew would board _the Lady Irewyth_ to hear the speech he'd promised. What was he going to tell the men if he couldn't be sure whether or not he had two corpses on his boat?

Llorrin was about to reach for the doorknob again when he heard someone practically storming his way. His hand dwelled towards his cutlass, but then he saw who it was.

_Of course_ Llorrin thought as his companion stopped in front of him, his eyes locked on the door.

Wheann seemed devastated. Llorrin had never seen him like this. His gaze travelled over his companion's body, noticing how both his arms and his left thigh were all bandaged up. Clearly, it wasn't just the bloodloss that had made him so pale. The hopelessness on the half-elf's face seemed like a good excuse for his own feelings.

"H-how… how is she?" Wheann stammered, his lip quivering. Llorrin saw the bloodstains on his bandages and had second thoughts about the way Irewyth had described the 'scuffle' that had taken place aboard her ship.

"I don't know" Llorrin said, realizing this was the first time he'd answered this question honestly.

Wheann was shaking.

"I was asleep, and I… I only just heard. I would've come sooner if I could have. I _must_ see her. I need to talk to her one more time. I still have something to tell her" the half-elf said in an equally shaky voice.

Llorrin's eyes took him in slowly and he wished he could read his mind.

"You're badly hurt" he said, pointing out the growing crimson cicles on Wheann's bandages. "You should get back to rest."

"But-"

"You can stay on this ship. If Carekon is still in any shape after he's done with Irewyth, I'll send him to take care of you as well. Now go rest. That's an order."

The half-elf agreed, grudgingly. With Wheann gone, Llorrin calmed down, but only slightly. When he realized his time was up and he had to go deliver his speech, he pushed the marines aside, opening the door, and froze. Carekon was sitting in his chair, pale as a corpse, and not moving. If his lips hadn't suddenly moved, Llorrin would've taken him for dead.

"I'm sorry" the chaplain brought out, his voice so soft only Llorrin's could've caught it. Llorrin's heart stopped. He slammed the door shut behind him so that it no longer blocked the rest of the room from view. Irewyth was at the far right of the cabin, lying in a pool of her own blood on Carekon's bed, covered by a white blanket that was stained at the height of her wound. She was pale as snow.

"Is she...?"

"No" Carekon said, painfully slowly. "Not… yet. I wanted… to call you… but… I couldn't… move. Or even shout. I tried to speak but… no one would hear me."

His eyes moved a little, looking up at him.

"Do you have any… water…?"

Llorrin always kept a flask on his hip. He was paranoid of getting knocked off board in a storm some day and ending up on an island with absolutely no supplies. Without further ado, he opened up the flask and put it to Carekon's lips, careful not to pour too much. When Carekon started coughing, he quickly stopped.

His eyes stopped on the chair and the table that were put in the middle of the room. Only now did he notice Irewyth's chapeau resting on the table, her boots standing next to the chair and her tunic hanging over it.

"Why the hell'd you have to take her clothes off?" Llorrin asked, biting his tongue when he realized he really shouldn't be talking to Carekon like this. He imagined captain Adane's voice booming in his head., reprimanding him. Still, somehow he didn't care to apologise.

"The Light… travels faster through air… than it does through material. I'm… very weak right now… I had to… reach the skin directly… take every advantage."

At least that sounded like it made sense. At any rate, it'd kept her alive. Llorrin bit his lip, only now fully realizing how indebted he was to Carekon… as long as Irewyth stayed alive.

"What's eating _you_? I know you've been ill ever since the fight with the Naga but… what exactly happened?"

"One of the sirens… She put a parasite… in me. I'm still… fighting it off. It's a… constant drain… on my powers. I was afraid... I'd be disposed of... if I... told anyone... because of the threat... to the crew."

Llorrin remembered the man with a hole in his stomach and the creature that had lunged at him from the darkness behind him.

"You have one of those things inside of you?!" Llorrin exclaimed, cringing.

"I've been taking… medicine. It'll be over… soon."

Llorrin felt the same, but, looking at his companion, he felt less sure about who's end it was going to be. If this parasite was somehow alive within Carekon, it could only benefit from his weakness if it was trying to kill him… or so he thought. He didn't fully understand these things. Llorrin could only hope Carekon was right.

"Come on, Carekon. You're not going to let such a little bugger get the best of you, are you?" he tried. "I _know_ you've been through much worse. Remember that time when we pulled you from the Silithid's nest? Or when I rescued you from that warlock?" he asked, putting a hand on Carekon's shoulder.

When Carekon sounded like he was in pain, Llorrin quickly removed his hand. Realizing there was nothing he could do, he walked over to Irewyth, crouching down next to the bed. He touched her forehead, wiping the hair out of her face and slowly running his thumb over her forehead. Her skin was cold. If only they'd lived in peaceful times, he was sure he'd be able to win her for him without having to stand all this trickery and tragedy.

_But then you probably wouldn't have ever met her. Nothing can ever be taken for granted, and nothing is ever easy_ a little voice spoke inside of him. He felt her growing colder with every minute that passed.

_I can't cry, not in front of her_ he thought, but nevertheless several tears rolled down his face. When he looked up Irewyth's eyes were open, and her face had turned towards him no more than an inch. They stared at each other for some time before she managed to speak.

"You still love me, don't you? I heard it in your voice, after I fell" she whispered, trying to smile.

Llorrin checked his voice before speaking, wiping his arm across his face.

"You really shouldn't be talking" he told her, but in truth he was more afraid of what he would say if he tried to answer.

The truth was, he wasn't sure what it was he felt. How could he risk lying to her if she could very well be about to die? Llorrin took her hand and squeezed it softly through the blanket.

"Just stay alive, ok? You'll have to promise me you stay alive. Who else is going to get on my nerves now that Chuth is gone?" he asked, trying to cheer her up, but she was in too much pain to smile.

"It's hard to do…" Irewyth mumbled, her eyes falling shut.

"Moving her… was a bad idea" Carekon said weakly.

"Keep her alive. That's an order" Llorrin said as he got up and turned towards the door.

"I… really shouldn't… be doing this" Carekon said weakly. He'd turned even more pale.

"You're the only healer you have, Carekon. It's your _job_, and no one else here can do it for you, so do it!" Llorrin bit at him, barging out of the room. The pain in the old man's voice was genuine, he knew, but every option he had seemed like a bad decision right now. He could either risk Carekon's life, or leave Irewyth to her fate. Neither one was very appealing.

"You two" he said to the soldiers waiting outside. "Help Carekon. Help him with everything he needs, and don't leave that room unless I order you to."

Without even waiting for an acknowledgement, he moved to the stairs to the upper deck, climbing them quickly. It was dark, and he realized he was too late and had left his men out in the cold for god knows how long. His men stepped aside, their faces close to his as he passed them by on his way to the upper deck. There were many faces. Cold faces, frightful faces. He recognized all of them, but they didn't recognize him.

_'Do anything that threathens the well-being of our mission, and I swear I'll kill you myself.' Is that really me? Did I truly say that?_ Llorrin thought. Every word he'd spoken to the men still passed through his mind, reminding him of the men's reactions, the shocked looks on their disillusioned faces. He feared his words might actually incite more mutiny. He'd thought everyone was as zealous as he was when it came to fighting the Horde, but now he feared many of his men would rather stay in denial rather than reach keep Tiragarde and find Elduin's words to be true. Their loyalty to admiral Daelin was great, but even he realized that if the admiral's forces had truly been annhilated, there'd be little the remains of the expedition could do against the Horde. Nevertheless, Llorrin thought the odds shouldn't matter.

What had happened to their bravery? Their zeal? The men hadn't fought orcs for so long they must've forgotten what it was like. They needed something to remind the men who their true enemy was, and they needed it fast.

He'd retreated to the edge of the quarterdeck, hoping to be left alone, while the crew had returned to their cabins. He was sure of one thing: he wouldn't be the only one who was going to have a bad night's sleep. Before he was even able to enjoy his moment of solitude, with a shock Llorrin realized that he probably was alone either way. Carekon was dying, Chuth was dead, Irewyth might very well not survive, he'd scared his own sailors with his speech and the look Wheann had given him when he'd denied the half-elf his visit to Irewyth didn't require any explanation. He was going to be alone more than he would like.

Llorrin stifled a cry as he tried to clench his fist. He hadn't felt it before, but his entire hand was throbbing with pain and he had trouble moving his fingers.

_Broken_ he thought as he studied his fingers more closely. With the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, the pain was only getting worse. Llorrin realized he'd have to carry this pain and all the other discomforts this injury would bring him for quite a while, because he could hardly ask Carekon to have a look at him. His thoughts drifted off to the past, when he'd still been a newcomer among captain Adane's crew, and an unusually young recruit at that.

It seemed ages ago. Back then, he'd broken his hand by taking a fall while moving crates, so he knew what to expect. Several weeks of having trouble getting dressed and being nearly defenseless… with the slight difference that now the men might be out to kill him, rather than push him around. Hitting Jeredan definitely didn't seem like it'd been such a good idea anymore now.

Llorrin looked over his shoulder, alerted to the sound of approaching footsteps, pushing himself up from his crouching position. Apparently he wasn't alone. His demons still came to haunt him.

"Jeredan. You look bad enough as it is, you should go get some sleep" he said bitterly, the corners of his mouth curling down at the sight of the warrior. Jeredan actually smirked a little as he close enough to be in reach, but it wasn't a pleasant smirk.

When Jeredan caught him by the neck and shoved him down onto the railing, Llorrin realized just why the crusader had smirked. Any sign of joy on Jeredan's scarred face was usually a bad omen. Llorrin's neck was almost being crushed against the railing, and he could barely breath, let alone speak. Llorrin struggled, but Jeredan's hand clenched around his neck like a vice. Llorrin might have as well been trying to move a mountain by leaning on it.

As he struggled, his thoughts raced. What was Jeredan doing? Was he one of the mutineers? Did he instigate a new mutiny? With almost every figure of power out of the game, it wasn't much of a stretch to think Jeredan had found the time to be right for his own little coup.

"See how easy it is to get to you? What are you going to do now, Llorrin? Are you going to call your guards? I'm sure finding you here, helplessly at my mercy, is going to make them regain their lost confidence in you" Jeredan said sarcastically. During the day, he always spoke loudly, but now his voice was a low, contemptuous growl, like the darkness itself turned him into a devil.

_He's insane… But he's also right_ Llorrin thought bitterly, a cold hand closing around his heart.

"Maybe none will come. Maybe they won't even care if they find your corpse. You know why? Because you've made a right mess of things. And how are you going to solve that mess, hm? By sitting here, sulking?"

When no answer came, Jeredan increased the pressure.

"What do you want?" he asked.

He pushed even harder.

"What do you want?" he insisted.

_If he forces my head any further down, he'll crush my throat_ Llorrin thought, slowly starting to panic, but he'd be damned if he pleaded with the brute for his life.

_Think! What would Jeredan want me to want…?_ he thought. Then it hit him. The same thing he desires, of course. That's the only think he'd ever want someone else to want.

Llorrin ceased his struggles, trying to gather enough air to at least speak a few words.

"I want to… get revenge… on the orcs. As you… damned well… know!" he growled, not without effort. Jeredan's grip relaxed, but only slightly.

"Yeah, you want to kill orcs. I bet they'd all be trembling in their boots when they hear you're coming for 'em. I bet your men feel the same!"

He pushed harder again, and Llorrin stifled a cry.

"Maybe you're just not the right person to lead this expedition" Jeredan mused, apparently more to himself than to his victim. "Maybe these men require a new leader… Someone stronger than you. Someone like me."

_He's going to kill me_ Llorrin thought. He tried to look at Jeredan, to know exactly where he was standing, and was able to spot a knife hanging by Jeredan's side out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, Jeredan was on his left side, because right now Llorrin couldn't trust his right hand to hold off a fly. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the dagger, drawing it and stabbing it at Jerendar's side before the crusader could even move. He thrust forward with all the desperation and anger he could muster… and felt the tip of the blade slide off Jeredan's armour.

The next thing he knew was that he was hurtling through the air, smacking into the floor. Despite the pain, he got up, ready to go at Jeredan again, but then he stopped, surprised to see the crusader hadn't even moved and wasn't reaching for a weapon. He'd even let down his guard, and was peering at the scratch on his armour.

"You tried to stab me… So, you've got some balls after all" Jeredan said as his index travelled across the mark.

"You won't have any left once I'm done with you, you son of a bitch" Llorrin threatened the crusader, lost in rage. His speech was garbled as he was still trying to catch his breathe.

"That's more like it" Jeredan said as he stepped closer, unconcerned that there was still a knife in Llorrin's hand. "You're too nice to people, and when you're not, you feel bad about it. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not too keen on following something like that. Leaders like that get people killed, as you damn well know."

Llorrin was too angry to talk. Who did this brute think he was, pretending to know anything? Lopping off heads was all he was good for.

"You know who's a good leader? Irewyth. That girl doesn't mess around. She does exactly the things to get what she wants, and isn't afraid to hurt someone's feelings once in awhile"

"Yeah, and she got stabbed" Llorrin reminded him.

"And you could've just been killed. I really don't see the difference" Jeredan said, spreading his hands.

"You'd better start behaving more like a man, Llorrin, or the next guy to attack you might actually try to kill you" Jeredan said. "Now, give me my knife back."

Llorrin's eyes narrowed, a smirk not unlike Jeredan's appearing on his lips.

"I took it. It's mine. See it as a form of payment for this bruise you put on my neck." Llorrin said, putting a finger below his neck as if the purple bruise wasn't obvious enough already.

"It's also up to you to come up with some decent explanation of how it got there. You haven't really thought this through, have you Jeredan? Putting bruises on me isn't exactly conducive to making the crew think I'm a tough guy, you know."

For a second Jeredan looked like he was about to attack again, but in the end he grinned, as if this kind of attitude was exactly what he wanted to see in Llorrin.

"You can keep the damn knife. It's more the kind of thing a little guy like you-" the crusader started, but he was cut off.

"When did I tell you you could stop calling me captain?"

Jeredan grinned again. Llorrin hated the idea that he was somehow following and even worse, amusing this brute, but he was beginning to see his point.

"Here's your damn explanation, captain. You don't need one. I can heal."

That was too much. Irewyth and Carekon were on their deathbed, and this bastard only brought this up now? Llorrin couldn't believe his ears.

"What did you just say?" he said slowly.

"I'm nowhere as good as Carekon, but the paladins I worked with… they taught me a few things."

_What kind of paladins would share their knowledge with someone like Jeredan?_ Llorrin thought, shaking his head. The same kind that could stand his presence in the first place, most likely he realized quickly. Llorrin almost jumped when Jeredan took a step in his direction, apparently with the intention of healing the bruise.

"Keep your paws off me. Go see Carekon and Irewyth. If either of them dies, I'll have your head" he told the brute.

"Oh, that's the way it is now. You want me to save them, don't you, captain?" Jeredan said, crossing his arms. He looked so smug Llorrin would've liked to punch him again, if he could.

"Yeah, so go" Llorrin insisted, but he could see Jeredan wasn't going to go anywhere.

"So what will I ask in return…" Jeredan thought out loud, rubbing his chin. "Chuth is dead, and you still have to appoint someone you can trust to command the frigate."

"Flynt-" Llorrin tried, but Jeredan cut him off.

"Flynt is a coward and a good-for-nothing. Besides, he's so old, he'd rather spend his final days exploring the seas rather than waging a battle. He's just as likely to oppose you as Chuth is, only, he wouldn't be so loud about it. Face it. The only person in your crew you know wants to fight the orcs, is me… captain" Jeredan gloated, knowing he had Llorrin cornered.

Llorrin couldn't believe it. The only person he could trust was someone who had just almost killed him. He should refuse him on the sole basis of that fact, but could he make that decision for Carekon and Irewyth? Jeredan might very well be their only hope.

"You'll get your damn ship… Once Carekon and Irewyth are better."

_At least that way, I'll know you're not lying._

"Deal" Jeredan said.

"Deal, _captain_" Llorrin said. "Get right to it, or I'll return your knife to you in a very unpleasant way" he threatened, flicking the knife up. Jeredan grinned and left.

"I really have to get rid of that guy" Llorrin murmured when he was sure Jeredan was out of earshot, shaking his head.

"Could you kill him?"

Irewyth nearly coughed up her food.

"What?" she asked, looking at him.

Llorrin sighed. His heart had skipped a beat. He'd almost dropped the bowl he was feeding her from, and these were his last pair of sheets. She'd smothered the others when trying to eat from a bowl with one hand, forcing Llorrin to help her. It was awkward, but he couldn't say he minded it. She was still weak and couldn't hold anything in her right hand, or so she said. Seeing her like this made him reconsider posing the question he was about to ask, but it passed his lips either way.

"Jeredan. Could you kill him?"

Irewyth looked at him casually as if he'd just asked her if she'd gotten a new dress made.

"Why would you want that? His magic the only thing that's keeping me alive" she said.

The scolding undertone to her voice wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping to hear.

"I'm not asking you to kill him, I'm just wondering if you could, whether or not you're stronger than him" Llorrin said.

Irewyth rested her chin on the fingers of her good hand, pondering on that. When he noticed she was looking at the spoon in his hand he scooped up some more porridge from the bowl and let her have it. Then he put it away. Irewyth's eyes followed the bowl with the disappointment of a cat watching a mouse disappear into the sewers. She swallowed slowly.

"I don't know. It would depend on the circumstances" she finally said.

That wasn't what he was wanting to hear either. If it depended on the circumstances, circumstances couldn't be worse now than ever.

"Come on Irewyth, now's not that time to start being modest" Llorrin said, smiling nervously.

"Why are you so worried about Jeredan anyway? And why would you need to rely on me to take care of him?" Irewyth said, reaching for the bowl with her right hand to show she wanted more. Llorrin sighed and fed her another bite.

"It seems to me like you're the only person aboard he respects, to some degree at least. I also have my doubts about his intentions, and why it's taking him so long to get you healed up" Llorrin spoke slowly as Irewyth devoured the rest of the porridge. She seemed more eager than ever to regain her strength.

Irewyth sighed and raised her eyebrows at him.

"_Why_ do you have your doubts about his intentions?" she repeated. "I can always tell when you're hiding something, Llorrin, you know that well enough."

"Ever since we found him, he's been slowly working his way up… and now that he's commanding his own ship, the only way up for him is through me… and you" Llorrin said.

"And Carekon" Irewyth added.

"Maybe" Llorrin said, feeling a pang of guilt.

Jeredan had insisted on keeping his healing abilities a secret, which had kept him from helping Carekon so far. Llorrin could come up with a hundred excuses for Jeredan to enter his captain's cabin while he was actually secretly seeing to Irewyth, but there were no good reasons for him to enter Carekon's room so often, and a man like Jeredan couldn't exactly move around inconspicuously. Then there were the guards he'd posted in front of Carekon's room. They guarded him day and night, both for his own safety and the ship's. Whatever was afflicting him, Llorrin didn't trust it one bit. He'd never be able to, but he had to wager attempting to force Jeredan's hand against losing his help completely. Sure, he'd brokered a deal with the ruffian, but how long would it take for Jeredan to decide he'd rather use violence to get what he wanted?

Llorrin hoped his voice had been grave enough so that for once, Irewyth would take him seriously.

"Oh… yeah… Maybe you're right. I hadn't thought about it like that yet" she said, instantly crushing his hopes she understood the threat with her careless demeanor. When she remained silent Llorrin realised he'd have to take it further. He felt she wanted the whole story.

"Look… He almost killed me just to prove a point. I don't like having him around. He's as unstable as a sea giant with rabies. He told me to toughen up, so I figured I'd take his advice, and get rid of him" Llorrin said, feeling really clever for a second.

Irewyth raised an eyebrow at him angrily.

"_Eventually_, when you and Carekon are both fine" he quickly added.

Irewyth snickered derisively. "Oh, he told you to toughen up. I suppose that's why you didn't mind what the men thought about you moving me to your private quarters."

"I don't care what they think, because I care about your safety, Irewyth. There's still men out there who want to kill you, Irewyth, and I've already lost enough. I'm not taking any chances."

"Yes, yes, you don't have to convince me you have no ulterior motives" Irewyth said with a hint of sarcasm, raising one hand.

"Look, Llorrin, the man barely knows what he's saying most of the time. Maybe you shouldn't be taking him so seriously" she tried to comfort him.

"On the contrary. I take it rather seriously when someone almost crushes my throat" Llorrin said, unwilling to budge an inch away from his statement even as Irewyth turned her face towards him. She brought the hand that was still in between them closer and her fingertips touched his neck, making his skin tingle where they touched.

"Jeredan, Llorrin, is nothing but a toy. I have him under control" she entrusted him, running her fingers down his chest.

"Look at you. You're even more rigid now than you were two weeks ago" she said, studying every inch of him.

Her hand suddenly slid back up and tightened around his collar, pulling him closer. She kissed him, their lips touching only briefly before she roughly shoved him away, holding him about a foot away from her.

"You need to trust me, okay? Big bad Jeredan isn't going to hurt you" she spoke slowly, as if believing her would somehow yield more of the passionate treatment she'd just given him. Silence lingered, briefly.

"Don't treat me like a child" Llorrin interrupted the silence, taking her arm off his neck. He could feel a change come over him, and he could tell from the look in Irewyth's eyes that she noticed it too. She quickly turned her eyes away and dropped the back of her head against her pillow, sinking away beneath her sheets. Suddenly she looked as small and vulnerable as a child, wounded and bandaged up as she was.

"I don't feel so well. I might not make it. Can we go back? The rest of the fleet could only be a few days behind" she said. When he didn't answer her she looked straight at him.

"I'll make up for lost time if I get better, you know I will. Do you believe Elduin sped up our journey? You've seen nothing yet" she promised.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

His refusal made her angry, and she wasn't scared to show it, like an wolf baring its teeth because it knows it can intimidate its prey. Llorrin felt himself considering to give in for a brief moment, but then his expression hardened and he didn't crumble under her gaze, showing his decision was final. Her demeanour quickly changed.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm poor and defenceless right now. You're the one who's scaring me with your tales about Jeredan. Can you imagine what he'd do to me if he does take over the ship?" Irewyth whined.

_You just told me you had him under control!_ Llorrin thought, becoming increasingly frustrated with her. He couldn't imagine her to be truly scared, but she made it all look so real, in a way that made him want to believe her, and would make him feel bad about himself if he didn't.

"We can't go back now, no matter the circumstances. Look what Elduin's death did to us. Can you imagine how much dissention it would cause if word of it reached the rest of the fleet? Captain Adane would support me, but the others… It could mean our end" Llorrin said.

"And if you're wrong, you'll hang. You'll not only be dishonored and make a fool out of captain Adane, you'll _die_."

"At least it'll only be me" Llorrin said, the conviction in his voice surprising both him and Irewyth.

The hydromancess pouted and looked at her sheets, remaining quiet for a while. Llorrin had to be careful not to feel too bad for her, watching her as she looked like that, vulnerable, afraid.

"I feel strong enough to walk. I need to move around if I want to regain my strength, get some fresh air. I don't want to be a sitting duck here if anything bad does happen. Can I go now?" she finally asked him.

_So you can go talk to Wheann, make __**him**__ your slave again?_ Llorrin thought, but he was glad he didn't speak the words out loud. He had to be careful, very careful when judging her actions and most of all Wheann, whom he had considered a friend and had been drinking alongside mere hours before he found out about his relationship with Irewyth. It didn't feel like it was fair for the half-elf to receive Llorrin's disdain, but at the same time he felt he just couldn't help it. He had to consider his feelings for her, whether or not they mattered, whether or not jealousy was clouding his vision, and if it was, how much. Llorrin felt as if the ship had begun to go down into a vortex. How could he judge her actions when his own mind was not made up?

Finally he decided he knew her well enough by this point. She was more than just a master at twisting the truth. If he was confused, it was likely because she wanted him to be.

_If you can't get what you want, no one can. Is that the way it is?_

"No, you're staying here. I won't take the risk" he said. "If there's anyone else out there that wants to kill you…"

The wolf-like glare look returned to her face and she sighed irritably.

"You're really becoming a pain to deal with, Llorrin. I wish you wouldn't listen to Jeredan so much" Irewyth bit at him.

Lorrin held back a sigh.

_Me too._

Llorrin watched the corpses hanging from the yardarm, swaying gently in the wind. By this time they had become so badly decomposed that the men's faces were almost completely unrecognizable, yet he remembered every name. Llorrin had forced himself to learn the names of the mutineers and look at them every day. He muttered them softly at the beginning of the day while most of the crew was still asleep. The wind blew the stench of the corpses in his direction, but he didn't even flinch. Several of the men were begging for the mutineers to be cut down and thrown into the sea, but Llorrin had refused every request. The grisly reminder of what had happened to those men could have been the only thing that was preventing another mutiny. The threat was clear, especially now that Irewyth was back on her feet.

The dead had attracted a flock of seagull that was pecking at the corpses eagerly. Llorrin scowled at the sight, but nevertheless forced himself to look. As soon as Irewyth had left his cabin and he'd once again been alone at night, his nightmares had returned.

At night, he often found himself floating in darkness, with a chasm even blacker than the darkness surrounding him right below him. Sinewy arms crept out of the chasm, pulling at him, tearing his skin with their fingernails and snapping his limbs with their strength. First he saw the faces of those men he'd lost down the chasm, but then he recognized the faces of the living as well, and he always wondered what they were doing there. Carekon, Irewyth, Wheann, Flynt and many other members of the crew, they were all down there with the rest of the vengeful dead, their faces twisted, inhuman. He wanted to shout at them, tell them they were not yet dead and had no business down there, but as he opened his mouth to scream the Light saved him from the spirits' deadly embrace… only to darken once the chasm below him was out of sight and pull him into an even darker vortex, one with countless teeth on the edges, that tore him apart as he was devoured.

Llorrin shook his head, trying to ban the images from his head. He had to sleep if he was going to lead his men effectively, but he just couldn't, and there was no one he could talk to. Wheann's entire demeanour towards him had changed ever since Llorrin had openly taken Irewyth into his captain's cabin to be nursed back to health. The half-elf had gained an extraordinary talent for avoiding him since then. Llorrin had made a point of talking to Jeredan as little as possible, and Irewyth would simply laugh and call him crazy.

Furthermore, he didn't want any of the men to think he was going insane. While Irewyth had regained her strength, Carekon hadn't. Jeredan still refused to heal him and the chaplain seemed to have become little more than a vegetable. He was so weak Llorrin didn't even dare move him. To fight off his nightmares, he felt all he could do was confront the very things that were haunting him, every day.

Even after this many weeks, Llorrin's emotions still ran high at the sight of the corpses. Was this truly worth it?

_If it's the price, it's the price_ he thought, tearing his eyes away from the corpses and turning his back to them. Perhaps if he told himself that enough times, he'd truly come to believe it. Llorrin sometimes wondered whether the loss of Elduin had clouded his judgement, for that was where everything had started to go downhill. He shrugged off his dark thoughts and tried to focus on the new day. The sun was breaking through the clouds, announcing the day, and more men were beginning to appear on the deck. He'd almost fallen asleep right where he stood sudden call from the lower deck attracted Llorrin's attention. It was Flynt, who'd become his first mate since Jeredan had become captain of the other ship.

"Captain!"

"Yes?" Llorrin acknowledged the old sailor.

"It's Carekon! It's serious!"

Llorrin's stomach clenched. Not Carekon. Only now that the threat of losing him was suddenly so near did Llorrin realize how much he'd missed his softly spoken words of advice, his eternal calm. He didn't ask any questions, but made haste to follow Flynt down to Carekon's cabin.

_If he dies, I'm going to kill Jeredan_, Llorrin thought. _Though I might as well kill myself._

As the door flung open the first thing Llorrin saw was Bors, the cook, who had been doing his best to keep Carekon well-fed and strong with what little means he had of doing so. Bors was knelt down next to Carekon and barely seemed to notice their entry. Then he saw Carekon. If Llorrin had thought Carekon couldn't have gotten any paler since the last time he'd entered his room, he was wrong. If Llorrin had hung him with the rest of the corpses, the chaplain might not have stood out. Carekon was convulsing, but he barely seemed conscious. He didn't cry out, nor did he moan in pain, and his eyes were emotionless. It was as if he was already dead. Then it stopped.

Flynt took off his hat and shook his head. Llorrin couldn't bear to look. Carekon had always seemed so strong, in his own way. Llorrin had always held out hope that he would make it through, no matter how grim the odds.

"He'd kept himself alive through his magic, but lately, he'd simply given up… Maybe he lacked the strength to go on" Bors said solemnly.

"Signal the men. This man is getting a proper burial, right now" Llorrin told Flynt. What he didn't say was that he wanted to get the corpse off the boat as soon as possible out of fear of contamination. The old sailor nodded and moved towards the door. A tingling feeling suddenly crept up Llorrin's spine.

"Wait" he said, grabbing Flynt by the sleeve and stopping him. He stared at Carekon, whose chest seemed to rise so slightly he wasn't sure he was truly seeing it or simply had to ascribe it to his lack of sleep. Llorrin didn't dare ask the other men in fear they'd crush his hope that what he was seeing was real. Then all doubt was erased. A faint glow emitted from Carekon's skin, and it quickly became bright enough to fill the entire room. Flynt shielded his eyes as Bors watched with an open mouth. Llorrin didn't budge, and only closed his eyes when the light became so bright he felt like he was back in his nightmare, only this time he was surrounded by a wall of light instead of darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was still white, but the specks of light obscuring his vision soon faded, revealing the silhouette of a man in front of him, a man who looked better than ever.

"Carekon" Llorrin said, in between disbelief and delight.

"How… How did you…?" Flynt stammered. The old sailor's unhealthy dose of fear for magic was well-known.

"When I didn't get better, I realized my efforts were in vain. By healing myself, I also healed the parasite my body was trying to cast off. I had to wait for it to die first, and it died with me."

"You mean you were actually dead for a while?" Bors said, rising from the floor on shaky legs.

"Almost" Carekon conceded. "The Light can be a powerful ally in times of need. It can allow you to go to and return from places you otherwise would be forced to stay."

"Still speaking in riddles, I see. You really are back" Llorrin grinned, patting Carekon on the shoulder. Carekon answered his smile, but there was a great deal of concern in his eyes as he studied Llorrin's face.

"It is good to be back on my feet. I get the feeling I've been sorely missed."


	10. Red Horizon

The sun that scorched the quarterdeck was as unforgiving as Llorrin's conscience. He'd realized too late no one had kept Carekon up to speed on everything that had happened on deck while he was ill. When Llorrin had seen the chaplain's face as he witnessed the corpses strung up from Jeredan's ship's mast, he'd made it his task to tell Carekon everything about the mutiny personally… everything except how he'd failed to stand up to Jeredan and had denied Carekon the crusader's help as a result. That his negligence hadn't killed Carekon in the end did little to make Llorrin feel better. Carekon had taken in the news in silence without judging his actions, but Llorrin felt the subject and his lies drifting in between them like mist.

He had ordered the corpses to be taken down shortly after Carekon's return, not simply because of the chaplain's disapproval, but also because he felt the men's morale had increased thanks to the chaplain's survival. He hoped that from now on he'd no longer have to rely on scare tactics. What was left of the mutineers had been given a proper sea burial, with the chaplain praising their past service in the Kul Tiras fleet and forgiving them for their misgivings. Carekon quite cleverly wrote off the conflict as a tragic misunderstanding that was the result of both sides' commitment and loyalty to the cause, and asked the rest of the men to look to the future and save their anger for the actual enemy.

Jeredan of course had his own views on why things had gone so sour.

"The boys haven't had a proper enemy to fight in years. You'd want to start killing for less" he'd told Llorrin, one hand on his two-hander. Llorrin had a hunch Jeredan hadn't forgotten about how their duel had been cut short by Elduin yet.

Llorrin was hoping everyone could put the past behind them now, so that he'd no longer have to fear a mutiny every second of every day. Carekon was a figure of authority that was easy for the men to accept, and his mere presence seemed to create a feeling of unity on board. The shared hope for his survival was one of the few things all members of the crew had kept in common during the weeks of animosity. Llorrin had figured even the meanest sailor in the crew respected Carekon enough not to want to risk having to kill him in a mutiny, so he considered his survival a blessing. Llorrin slept better in the weeks that followed, and when he walked on board he at least didn't feel like he was entering a warzone anymore.

_And to think I didn't even stick my neck out for you_ Llorrin thought, shaking his head. He was looking over the sea from the ship's bow, hoping they'd reach Tiragarde Keep soon. Irewyth did what she could to speed up her journey, but she was nowhere as effective as Elduin had been, which made Llorrin suspect she wasn't giving it her all. He suspected she didn't want to allow herself be caught off guard again, but Llorrin didn't have much patience for that, not now that peace had been restored.

"I'm disappointed in you Irewyth, between Elduin and yourself, I always thought you were the better mage" he had taunted her, but she had only smirked. Llorrin had found Irewyth had an irritating talent for being able to ignore what you said and focus only on what she knew you wanted.

"Elduin was locked in a cage with no one but you to amuse him, what did you expect? A man would drive himself to the edge for less."

"But you're not a man" Llorrin had remarked.

"Yes, it wouldn't be very noble of you to force a lady who's only just recovered from a terrible injury to exhaust herself, now would it?" Irewyth had said in her sweetest voice.

"Maybe I should consider locking you up, as well…" Llorrin had muttered, but Irewyth had merely laughed and walked away.

Llorrin wondered if captain Adane could have faced similar troubles. He certainly didn't think it impossible. It seemed to him they'd been at sea for so long and so much had happened in the meantime, he'd almost lost sight of his actual goal at times.

_Tiragarde… I'll be glad when I finally reach you_ he thought. He didn't even consider the possibility Elduin might have been lying anymore.

An unusual amount of ruckus behind him shook Llorrin out of his daydreams. He turned around and subconsciously reached for the pistol inside his vest, surprised he was still so wary of a sudden fight breaking out on board. He caught Flynt running towards him, but the man was unarmed and while the crew was excited and looking up from their tasks, none of them were fighting. Llorrin's hand slipped off the pistol.

"Cap'n! Unknown ships! Port side!" Flynt shouted, stopping in front of him and pointing to the west, to Kalimdor.

His heartbeat rose as he looked west, following Flynt's outstretched arm with his eyes to discover two tiny specks on the horizon. The first thing he noticed were the red sails. Red sails could mean many things, but the sigil of the jagged outline of an orc's jaw, complete with comparatively small specks that indicated angry eyes and a nose, could only belong to the Warsong clan, one of the most brutal and feared orc clans. For all he knew Grom Hellscream, the mighty Warsong chieftain himself, could be on board of one of the vessels. The orcs had stolen several human ships when they had first set sail for Kalimdor, but these were different ships. He was certain his companions couldn't see, but Llorrin could distinguish orc warriors on board, waving axes and baring teeth.

_The brutes look like they've been whipped into a frenzy_ Llorrin thought. He wondered how long they must've been at sea without enemies to fight. It surprised him the savages hadn't begun to tear each other apart yet.

"Damnit, those are orcs alright" Llorrin cursed under his breath as the ships came closer at frightening speed. Surely the Warsong orcs would recognize the banner of Kul Tiras as well. All his life he'd been willing to face the orcs, and now that the opportunity was finally there, it came at the worst possible time. The orcs weren't supposed to know they were even alive.

Carekon came hurrying towards him.

"Those are ogre juggernauts" the chaplain warned him. "They have more firepower and warriors than we do."

"I know," Llorrin said. The Horde's juggernauts had sent a lot of Kul Tiras' fleet to the bottom of the ocean during the Second War. Monstrous warships of epic proportions, they had been originally designed by the ogres when they had first joined the Horde. The human forces had doubted the primitive ogre's ability to build proper warships for the Horde, and they had paid the price for underestimating the ogres in blood. Every man who held Kul Tiras dear still carried a grudge for that, whether he'd lived through those times or not, for the island nation had never truly recovered from the blow. "Prepare for battle."

The words had left his mouth before he'd truly considered them.

"Prepare for battle!" he shouted at his crew, as if to take away his own doubts. Nevertheless, an eager cheer went up from the men. It was soon followed by another cheer that came from Jeredan's ship.

"But captain-" Flynt started, but Llorrin was already moving back to the quarterdeck to oversee his crew. Flynt tried to follow but got blocked off by a couple of men that was making haste to clear the deck of a few barrels that stood on the deck to catch rain water but would certainly get in the way in a fight. Carekon did manage to keep up.

"Llorrin, please consider what you are doing. Sometimes it is better to stay away from a fight and fight another day. I know how you feel about the orcs, but now is not the time for rash decisions" he said.

Llorrin sighed, doing his best to keep his voice down.

"Look, we can't take the risk that they recognized our sails. Even if we could outrun them, they would bring word back to the mainland that more Kul Tiras ships are still at large, and then the sea will soon be swarming with orcs" he said.

Flynt now caught up to them, pushing through a couple of riflemen that was getting into position.

"Captain, the odds are against us, and if we lose, they'll capture us and make us reveal everything!"

Llorrin stopped and grabbed Flynt by the shoulder.

"None of us will surrender. If the battle turns sour, you have my permission to bite off your tongue" he said. Flynt's jaw slacked.

"Find Irewyth and send her to me. I have a plan" Llorrin continued. Now was not the time to stand frozen. "Carekon, I'll need you to stay here to heal and shield my men from anythign the orcs throw at us."

Flynt left without a word, and Carekon nodded, seemingly reluctantly, but nevertheless took position alongside the jeering riflemen that had passed them by earlier.

Content with the way he had rid himself of Flynt and Carekon's complaints, Llorrin hurried on towards the quarterdeck, hoping Flynt would find Irewyth quickly. It was still early, and Irewyth had a habit of sleeping all the way through the day. Whereas Llorrin relished in finally getting a chance to fight the brutes, he didn't think this was the ideal time. They had lost men to the Naga already, and they were supposed to keep their presence _hidden_ from the orcs.

"Jeredan!" he called to the other ship, which was within earshot. "Are your men ready?

"What does it look like?" Jeredan shouted back, brandishing his two-hander. Llorrin thought Jeredan had sometimes looked rather ferocious before, but none of those times compared to what he looked like now.

"Keep your ship alongside mine! We're going to take them head on!" Llorrin called.

"That's what I thought!" Jeredan bellowed before tending to his crew.

"Turn around! At them! We have to sink them or they'll alert their friends on the mainland!" Llorrin ordered. A cheer went up from the men, and the frigates were turned with amazing speed, heading straight for the destroyer. Surprisingly, the orcish vessels started turning, heading back west.

"What are they doing? I thought they'd come to fight!" one of the sailors called, disappointed.

Llorrin squinted. He could see the orcs on board the closest juggernaught, gesturing angrily at who he assumed to be their captain. The nature of the conversation was easy to guess. The protest stopped when the captain beat one of the displeased grunts on the head. _Seems I have something in common with an orc,_ Llorrin mused, feeling somewhat disgusted by the notion.

"It seems like they don't want to take any risks… They're trying to get away from us so they can alert their allies. Pursue them! I want them caught before they can even get in sight of the shore!" Llorrin bellowed, and his men were more than happy to oblige. Some of them might have felt as cold as he did as the wind started rising, blowing them towards his enemies, but like Llorrin, no one showed any signs of fears.

Everyone was baffled when their frigates, supposed to be the fastest in the fleet, didn't gain on the juggernaughts. They had to think of something else.

"Irewyth!" Llorrin greeted her. "Can't you make us go faster?"

Irewyth had a malicious twinkle in her eye. For once, Llorrin was happy to see it.

"I have a far better idea, Llorrin. Tell your men to slow down" she said.

The eerie blue glow in her eyes he remembered from when they had fought the Silithids appeared, and Llorrin's skin started tingling. He had an idea of what she was about to do, so he complied, shouting out his orders.

"Cease the pursuit!" he shouted, which led to a lot of vocal protests from the crew, who nevertheless obliged when Irewyth cast her icy eyes upon them.

_I better hope you've thought this through, Irewyth_, Llorrin thought as he watched the Warsong ships grow smaller. _Whatever you're planning, we'll never be able to catch them if it fails._

His thoughts were interrupted as Irewyth's voice suddenly thundered over the sound of the wind, the waves and the anxious crewmen alike. In the distance, he saw the clouds above the orcish ships break and begin to twist into a vortex. They glowed a foreboding, unnatural blue colour. The cold literally radiated off of it. Sharp chunks of ice as big as a man's head began to rain down on the Warsong ship, tearing through the fabric of the sails and crashing into the deck. Though part of him was terrified at such a display of power, Llorrin smirked, imagining the orcs' screams over the sound of the raging storm.

He squinted and thought he saw minuscule figures being flung overboard. This wasn't the end though, as suddenly the juggernaughts started swaying and slowly spinning around. He realized it was being sucked into a vortex. The force of Irewyth's spell was so great that Llorrin caught ripples on the surface of the sea reaching all the way to his ship. The crew watched in silence, awed by the magnificent display of power. No one even spoke a word as the first juggernaught's bow crashed into the second's side, splintering both ships. They watched until the last piece of mast had disappeared into the vortex, and the clouds had returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. The crew seemed frozen, as if they were locked in a dream. Everyone was so astonished that they didn't even see that Irewyth had collapsed.

The first to notice the hydromancess' fall was Eryck, an eager marine who's place was at the wheel of the ship during battle, or whenever Llorrin and Flynt were needed elsewhere. While Eryck lacked the leadership qualities and experience required to truly become his first mate, he had a reputation for being fearless almost to the point of stupidity, and Llorrin trusted him to steer the ship in battle more than Flynt, who didn't have much of a stomach for battle. Llorrin knew this was actually supposed to be his own responsibility as a captain, but since he was almost entirely new to directing a ship in battle he preferred to leave it to someone who had at least a bit of experience. If it did come to a fight, he preferred to be in the thick of it himself, and he also wanted an experienced officer commanding the men at the cannons.

"Sir!" Eryck warned him, pointing down at Irewyth's fallen form.

Llorrin turned sharply and held back a curse upon seeing her, crashed against the deck as she was. It made him suddenly see her earlier comment about exhausting her in an entirely different light. He walked over and knelt down next to Irewyth, putting two fingers against the side of her neck, and was relieved to feel her heartbeat. He hadn't really expected her to die this easily, but the way things had been going lately, there wasn't much that would still surprise him. Muttering under his breath, he slid his hands under her back and thighs and picked Irewyth up. She was heavier than he'd expected, or maybe he was simply weaker.

"Keep following this course," Llorrin told Eryck.

"Sir?" Eryck, who didn't really appear to see the use in checking out some wreckage, asked.

"We haven't had word from the mainland in ages. We're going to see whether there's any survivors. If there are, they might have some useful information."

"Sir."

Llorrin started carrying Irewyth back to her bed personally. He didn't want to trust her to anyone. As he passed through the ranks of his men he noticed Wheann, who still had his daggers drawn. The half-elf did little to hide his contempt as Llorrin passed him by. He clearly didn't share in the joy the rest of the crew felt over seeing two ogre juggernaughts shattered before their eyes.

Putting Wheann out of his mind, Llorrin walked on and soon tucked Irewyth in. He ordered Bors to guard her and sent another marine to go fetch Carekon to check on her. When he returned to the deck they were very near to the rubble. Shattered wood, dead and dying orcs, sails and parts of the juggernaughts' masts drifted on the surface of the water. Llorrin was surprised to see how many orcs were still fighting for their lives, holding on to whatever flotsam they could cling onto or swimming to try and reach a safe spot.

"Looks like what they say about orcs is true. They don't kill easily," Eryck, who had apparently switched positions with Flynt at the wheel again now that the threat of an impending battle had gone, said. He'd replaced Jeredan as his bodyguard, but Llorrin wasn't sure whether that had been a very good choice on his part, because Eryck had the uncanny habit of disappearing and reappearing at his side without him noticing.

"Neither do we," Llorrin reminded him. One thing he had in common with Eryck was that he was too young to have ever fought the Horde, unlike many other members of the crew.

As the frigate sailed along the wreckage the orcs stared at the crewmen with hateful eyes. The mere sight of them made his blood boil. Llorrin looked the warriors over one by one, trying to find one that looked like he was of higher rank. He saw an orc clad in thick black armour, with bronze brazers strapped to his forearms. As far as Llorrin could tell he was bigger and older than the others and had accumulated more tattoos on his arms and face than any of the other warriors. His face and arms were covered in scars.

"That one," Llorrin said, pointing out the important-looking orc. "Take him aboard."

The orc wasn't about to let himself get caught so easily. He threw bits of flotsam and other debris at their heads and swum away whenever the ship got near to him, forcing Llorrin to sail right into the debris. Orcs willingly made way for their leader as he tried to stay ahead of the ship, sometimes drowning in the process. A hollow thunk went through the ship every time the hull made contact with an orc's head. It was all for naught, however, because he was finally caught in a net that was otherwise used for fishing and pulled aboard with great effort. Llorrin was relieved to see he must have lost all of his weapons in the storm.

_More wasted time,_ he thought as the orc struggled to break free from the net, cursing and growling and hurling obscenities and threats alike at his captors. From the water, other orcs shouted encouragements, and some even tried to reach the ship. Flynt sailed right over them, without compassion. They could have taken more prisoners, but after the grueling effort catching the captain had been, Llorrin really didn't want to waste any more time. He walked up to the orc, who still managed to look defiant even with half a dozen muskets pointed at him.

"Are you the leader of this sad company of scallywags, whelp? You Kul Tiras dogs must truly be getting desperate, to have children fight your battles" the orc sneered in a voice that was not only powerful, but also surprisingly articulate, before Llorrin could say anything.

The insult stung, but it wasn't entirely unexpected, and Llorrin had the feeling it wouldn't be the last time he'd be faced with such a remark, either. Nevertheless, he gave a slight nod in Eryck's general direction. Eryck didn't hesitate to kick the orc in the teeth, but it only seemed to make him angrier. He spat on the deck and showed his bloodstained teeth in a soundless growl. One of his fangs was long broken, but the other was still sharp.

"Oh, you're the type who lets others do the dirty work, are you? What a surprise," the captive taunted.

"I don't hit unarmed prisoners," Llorrin proclaimed. Two could play this game. He didn't need to come up with proper justifications to the orcs' accusations.

That seemed to amuse him.

"Oh, it's above you then, is that it? How about you free me from this net, whelp, so I can see how well you fare against an armed opponent? Or do you have a problem with that as well?"

"It still wouldn't be fair. You're exhausted from keeping your ass above the sea level, not to mention old," Llorrin said, trying to appear calmer and more smug than he really felt.

"Where is that bastard who sunk my ships, I have a few things to say to him, as well" the orc demanded, once again struggling against the confines of the net.

"That bastard is a she. I'll have you know your ship was sunk by a girl half your size," Llorrin answered him. Though he could've used Irewyth's wit in this conversation, he was glad she wasn't here. He wasn't sure he'd be able to contain himself if the orcs' insults were aimed at her instead.

_He sees the hatred in my eyes, and he's trying to exploit it. He's trying to get me to kill him_, Llorrin thought. His men remained silent. This was a test, to show he wouldn't let his inexperience get the best of him.

"My name is Gronbag, and that's all you'll get out of me, filthy human" the orc growled.

"That," Llorrin said, immediately thinking of Jeredan, "remains to be seen. Take him to the brigg. I might just have a _couple_ of questions for _you_," Llorrin promised him. His insides were turning however. The presence of these ships suggested the orcish forces on the mainland were still strong, and at any rate it meant Admiral Daelin hadn't sunk them yet.

_On the other hand, he didn't seem overly surprised to see us, so there might still be more of our ships around..._ Llorrin thought.

He'd never really believed the orc shaman and Elduin had both been lying about Admiral Proudmoore, but now that he was so close to having every last bit of uncertainty erased he felt he was once again surprisingly reluctant to accept what he already believed to be true. He'd have to make sure to speak to the orc in private, and not let anything he told him out to the rest of the crew. Llorrin was smart enough to know the hope of seeing their old friends and admiral again was what kept up the morale of most of his men. What was more was that if Daelin and his forces had truly fallen, they'd be hopelessly outnumbered against the Horde.

_Jaina, we'll have to convince Jaina to help us,_ Llorrin thought, making a mental note to squeeze any information he could get on her out of Gronbag. Without her aid, they lacked the manpower, and their cause would be lost. He remembered he'd been over this with Adane and Elduin before, on the eve of his departure, and both of them had shouted 'no!'. Elduin had revealed the strangest things about Jaina, about her pacifist attitude towards the orcs, about how her men had stopped fighting the orcs once Daelin had fallen, and Captain Adane had been worried she'd steal part of the fleet they still had away.

_Still, they have to realize that without her aid, our cause is lost_ Llorrin thought. He felt if they sailed back to Kul Tiras to pledge their loyalty to Tandred, they would never be allowed to leave again. Surely Captain Adane had to realize this as well. 'I will think of something else' the captain had promised him, but could he really trust him?

_Of course you should trust him, you should follow his orders,_ a voice inside of him berated him, but he still had his doubts. If he could only speak to Jaina, maybe he could sway her... As long as he could avoid revealing the existence of the rest of the fleet, it would do no harm. Captain Adane probably wouldn't approve, but _if_ he was successful in gaining Jaina's support, his captain would surely be grateful for it. On the other hand, it was possible Adane already had a plan that he simply hadn't told him about yet. Surely sailing all the way back to Kul Tiras for the slim chance Tandred would support their crusade against the orcs wasn't the best Adane could have come up with. Perhaps he should just stop worrying so much and trust his captain, follow his lead... All the doubt was making Llorrin's head spin.

He'd taken his eyes off the orc for the briefest of moments, which was enough. Gronbag shot forward, pulling the net with him as he extended his arm. Before Llorrin could move the orc's fist closed around his ankle like a vice, with so much force he feared it would snap. He lost his balance as the orc pulled, crashing into the deck, but then the marines reacted, cursing and swarming in on the orc. They beat him senseless with their muskets and kicked him until he stopped resisting them and only covered his head and eyes from taking more hits. Llorrin rubbed his ankle, feeling the painful skin beneath his fingertips. _Just a little longer, and it would've been broken,_ he realized with awe. Llorrin scowled as he got up and dusted himself off, but he didn't let rage overtake him. The orc would be worth more to them alive.

"Lock him up and see to his wounds," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "I want him alive."

Half a dozen marines, including Eryck, went with Gronbag to carry him off and deliver him to his cell safely. Llorrin watched until he was out of sight before he moved to return to his cabin, suddenly feeling just how much his ankle really hurt.

"We sail on to Tiragarde. We'll have to stay further away from the shore from now on, because I don't want to run into anymore ships. Irewyth won't be able to save us every time" he announced to no one in particular.

"Captain, what about the others?" a sailor asked.

"Others? Oh, yeah," Llorrin muttered, looking at the water, where many orcs were still fighting for their lives. The wind had begun to pick up again, and the waves were growing larger and larger. They didn't have that many reliable cells on board, and they were already running short on food and water, so a bunch of useless mouths on board was the last thing he needed right now. He had a feeling Gronbag alone would cause enough trouble by himself. If they met another Horde juggernaught in battle, the orcs could become a liability, because he wouldn't put it past them to be able to escape during the chaos of a fight. Llorrin looked over the deck, where two rows of musketeers awaited his orders. One word, and they'd fire a volley that would put an end to the stragglers and send their corpses sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He thought of the Naga, who some men said could smell blood through water even from miles away, but he also thought of his parents, faceless entities he'd never come to know because of orcs just like the ones drowning but a few feet away from his ship.

"Let them drown," he finally said. "They're not even worth the bullets."

Llorrin frowned as he put the ice against his bruised ankle. He'd called for Bors to get him some ice from the hold. Those ships that had a hydromancer on board to make it for them tended to keep some ice on board to quell bruises or conserve food. If they encountered another ship, it could even serve as a valuable trade resource. The ice was put in barrels that was filled with sawdust so it could keep its shape and kept in the darkest and coolest place in the ship. The barrels were enclosed in a way to prevent warm air from reaching it, but even that didn't stop a lot of it from melting after a while. As soon as the adrenaline had faded he'd felt just how badly the orc's fingers had pressed into his skin. He'd thought the warlock had been pretty strong for his age, but this orc had cast a whole new light on that observation.

It would've been child's play for Irewyth to create some more ice for the crew, but he felt that was the last thing he could ask of her right now. He'd ordered Carekon to stay at Irewyth's side constantly while she regained her strength, just to be on the safe side. If she ever got out of bed and heard Llorrin had been so worried about her he knew she would be sure to pester him about it. It was something he was willing to endure though. He'd even decided he wasn't going to let Carekon waste even an ounce of his mana on healing his ankle. He had to remember the chaplain had probably also not fully regained his strength yet, because he didn't want to repeat the mistake he'd made with Irewyth.

_Captain Adane always carried his wounds in plain sight and rarely called for a healer, perhaps I should take it as an example,_ Llorrin thought, remembering the purple bruise Adane had carried on his head back in that dreaded desert.

Bors had advised him to wrap the ice in a piece of cloth and had mumbled something about ice being able to burn as badly as fire if it came in direct contact with your skin for too long, but that didn't seem to make any sense to Llorrin, so he hadn't bothered. He'd pulled his trousers up to his knee and had put his foot in a bucket, which was being filled drop by drop by the quickly melting ice, but at least kept the floor of his captain's cabin dry. Freshwater was too valuable to waste. The palm of his hand and his fingers tingled from the cold, but he held the cube tight, fixing his grip around it carefully to keep it from slipping out of his trembling hand.

The cold of the icecube made him aware of just how hot the rest of his reddened skin had become, and for a moment he contemplated rubbing cold ice all over his body. His breathing came slowly and every thought about confronting the orc captain again sent his heartbeat into overdrive. His first_true_ confrontation with the Horde could have gone much worse, but it had been… different from how he had imagined it.

He'd caught glimpses of mangled orc corpses drifting in the water. Their limbs had been shattered, their faces caved in or swollen, their bodies pierced by large chunks of wood. It was one thing to kill an opponent in a fight, but Llorrin had rarely witnessed destruction on this scale. Training, skill, armour, it all mattered little against such power. War devoured everything, and no one, not even the greatest mage or warrior, was safe. It had reminded him of just how little he held his fate in his own hands. What if the next ogre juggernaught they encountered had a warlock on board? Would they end up like the orcs he'd just condemned to drown? After the images of the bloodied orcs had passed through his mind worse ones of the one time he'd sailed with captain Adane to give battle to the undead followed. He wanted to block them out, but nevertheless suffered a drawback to that day, a day he still dreamt about, the day the undead doom barges had cut through the Kul Tiras fleet that had sailed out in an attempt to save Lordaeron from the Scourge.

The sea had been turned into a chaos of splintering wood, men and body parts that were being hurled through the air. The screaming had drowned out all other sounds and the mist the foul magic of the undead had turned into as their magical volleys cut through hull, armour and flesh alike had coated the sea in a deathly pale light. _My first battle_, he thought with a sad smirk. If captain Adane hadn't had the sense to turn his ship away from that chaos, they would've ended up on the bottom of the sea like so many others. It still felt strange to Llorrin that captain Adane has disobeyed his orders to engage the undead fleet. Then again admiral Proudmoore, who had decided against any further action against the Scourge, hadn't held it against him even once. The undead ships had pursued them, and a few times they had come so close he had seen the hollow eyes of the undead warriors on board the doom barges. Back then he had wished his eyesight hadn't been so good, because as much as he tried, he hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from their rotting, undead faces. Some of the undead warriors had been dressed in the armour of the men they had sailed out to save, a few had been fresh reanimated corpses, still coated in the dark green tunics of the Kul Tiras navy. Sometimes, Llorrin dreamed he saw himself standing among those corpses with lifeless eyes, and blood running down his nose and mouth.

He could only imagine what chaos would follow when they met an army of orcs, or an entire fleet, because that was where this course was inevitably taking him. He told himself it could never become as bad as that slaughter had been. Orcs were many things, but they were at least not as… unnatural as the undead. What had astounded him the most was the drowning orcs' willingness to aid each other and even sacrifice themselves to protect their captain. He'd expected them to be more... egoistic. He hadn't told the men, but there'd been more than one reason he'd wanted to distance himself from the drowning orcs quickly.

_Such strength…_ he thought as he adjusted the shrinking ice cube, noticing how his ankle was turning all sorts of colours.

All of a sudden someone entered unannounced. He looked up, expecting Eryck, but by the size of the men and his black armour he could tell it was Jeredan before the man had even fully passed the door. Llorrin picked his foot out of the bucket, dropped the ice and pulled his leg up to his chair, softly drying it with a towel. His skin felt oddly prickly and sensitive. He'd quit mending the bruise because he knew Jeredan was going to say something about it, but when the crusader grinned Llorrin knew he was going to make a comment on it anyway.

"Oh, did you strain your poor ankle, princess?" he chuckled.

"Why are you here?" Llorrin asked in a weary voice that showed how little he appreciated Jeredan's jape. This was one of the times where he really could've really used Eryck guarding his door to at least slow down and announce Jeredan, but sadly he didn't know where the guy was half of the time.

"Prisoners," Jeredan said with a hungry glint in his eye that unsettled Llorrin.

"What?"

"You're turning away our ships from those wrecks already, but I'm saying we should go back and pick up a few of those orcs. Times at sea can get very dull, and they won't get the opportunity to eat much of our supplies, I can promise you that," Jeredan said with a morbid delight. No matter how well you thought you knew him, only once the sight of an orc had set his blood aboil you could truly see how dangerous and deranged he was. Llorrin didn't need to ask what Jeredan wanted with the orcs. How he had enjoyed torturing the traitor who had attacked Irewyth already told him enough.

"No," Llorrin said bluntly, knowing he was treading on slim ice. He could simply feel the anger radiating off of Jeredan's body. He wouldn't put it past Jeredan to assault him again, and Llorrin had already laid off his weapons. One glance told him they were both out of reach. _Another thing I need to learn. Someone could've just bursted in here and killed me._

"We're not going back, but you could accompany me. I could use your help to intimidate that orc captain a little," he added.

To Llorrin's own surprise that seemed to please Jeredan enough to make him forget about the other orcs, even though he was pretty sure they both had an entirely different interpretation of the word 'intimidate.' No doubt he could persuade Jeredan to keep his mouth shut to the crew about whatever the orc was going to reveal, after all, Jeredan was as invested in getting back to the mainland and fighting the Horde as he was.

_And if he tries to blackmail me again, I'll slit his goddamn throat_, Llorrin thought as he got up and tucked the knife he'd taken from Jeredan earlier into his pocket. He made a quick, hasty copy of the detailed map Elduin had drawn, only including the most basic outlines.

_Let Gronbag think we're clueless fools with no notion of anything that's happened since we sailed out_, Llorrin thought, aware he could use this to his advantage. It was easy to make people believe things they wanted to believe, that was something he'd learned from dealing with Irewyth.

"Let's go," he told Jeredan, who followed so eagerly he forgot to close the door behind him.

Belowdecks, the men were celebrating their victory. They were singing the praises of Irewyth and even Llorrin. Llorrin saw Bors, whose belly pushed the table he sat at up at least an inch. The provisions master himself was putting their remaining beer supplies to a serious test. Flynt was one of the few members of the crew who still looked sober, though he seemed to be in need of a drink more than anyone. He'd barely touched his pint, and still looked kind of shaky.

Eryck, who had put an orcish helmet he must have fished out of the water on his head, stumbled up in front of them, a bottle of rum in his hand.

_My vigilant guardsman,_ Llorrin thought, smirking.

"Sir," he blurted out. "We need to celebrate t- this victory… properly. Tomorrow, the men want to p… parade that orc over the deck."

Llorrin frowned. "Why?"

"Just, you know. To make a fool of him. We could-" Eryck said, waving the bottle.

"No," Llorrin interrupted, even though he didn't really know why.

Eryck blinked, clearly surprised.

"Why not? It's good for morale," he tried.

"I'm not like them," Llorrin said, pushing him out of the way gently so he wouldn't fall over. Humiliation was a form of torture, and torturing captives seemed more like something orcs would do. Jeredan gave Eryck a look that would have frozen a sober man in place as he passed him by, but Eryck merely smiled.

_I fear the next guy to slow us down is going to lose a couple of teeth,_ Llorrin thought, glancing at Jeredan.

Luckily, they suffered no more delays on their way down to the brigg. His heartbeat increased steadily as he got closer and closer to the cell. To his surprise, Llorrin found Wheann guarding Gronbag's cell. That the half-elf was here meant he must've volunteered to take a guards' place, which was very unlike him. The half-elf was crouched down in front of the jail. His head hung low, and his expression made it seem like _he_ was the one behind bars. He barely noticed their approach, and got up only slowly once they reached him. The look he gave Llorrin was full of contempt. A while back they'd been drinking together by the fire. Llorrin had suddenly had to go see captain Adane and had been so drunk he'd nearly drowned that poor guy who'd rowed him to _the Orcduster_, something they had both laughed about later. Laughing seemed to be the last thing on Wheann's mind now, though. Llorrin had more than just a hunch what it was that was bothering the half-elf, but he still tried to play it off with a joke.

"He really makes for bad company, huh?" he said, smirking briefly at the orc, who grinned as if he took it as a compliment. Gronbag's wounds had been taken good care of, and by Llorrin's orders they'd even brought Gronbag some ale. To dull the pain and praise his courage, he'd been told, but the real reason was Llorrin wanted him to be more talkative. Unlike Gronbag, Wheann didn't grin. His eyes were cold and distant.

"I know, Llorrin, about you and Irewyth. She was mine, how could you do that?" he said, his voice little more than a hiss.

Llorrin was momentarily speechless. Wheann hadn't spoken to him in so long, so he'd already figured he must have found out, but he hadn't been expecting to have this conversation, not now, not in front of the orc. Gronbag's grin continued to grow.

"She chose to," he blurted out, unable to come up with anything better.

Wheann's lip quivered before he answered.

"She _doesn't_ love you. She _used_ me, and she used you as well. Once she's done with you, she'll drop you like she does everyone else."

"She used you both. Get over it," Jeredan sighed, crossing his arms.

"She didn't use-" Llorrin started, but Jeredan laughed dismissively.

"She played the entire crew. Remember when we were caught in the mist, and our ships got separated? That mist was her doing. She caused the ships to drift off."

"You're lying. I would've noticed something like that, and so would Llorrin" Wheann said, narowing his eyes.

Jeredan shook his head.

"Nu-uh. Separating herself was her way of making sure she could deal with the mutiny the way _she_ wanted to without interference. That girl doesn't take insults lightly, and she never liked that damn dwarf. Oh, she also sent her water elementals below this ship to push it back towards her own once she was done hanging the traitors. She wanted Llorrin to get the credit for bringing the ships back together and make Chuth look bad for letting his ship drift off. Remember the rain? Also her doing. Chuth was an experienced sailor, he would have lighted torches to keep track of each other's positions before the distance between the ships became too large, but there was no way he could do that with the rain. So you see, she fooled everyone on this ship. Well, everyone except me. Now, can we get on with our interrogation?" Jeredan explained, sounding almost bored, like they were fools not to have figured this out by themselves.

Llorrin was astonished by this revelation. He was reluctant to believe Jeredan, but the plot seemed far too intricate for him to have come up with himself, not to mention he had very little to win by lying to him about this. What was worse than the actual reveal was how smug Jeredan was about it however, and what his knowledge of Irewyth's plotting implied…

"How do you know all this?" he asked him, but he had a feeling he already knew.

"We had similar interests," Jeredan said with a slight nod. "That girl is sick of being stuck on a boat with nothing to kill, and so am I. She thinks she's destined for greatness, you know. She wants to see her name put in every history book. I'm a bit more modest than that, but I'd still enjoy cracking some orcish skulls before I go down. She was smart enough to see I felt nothing for letting some damn mutineers who wanted to continue this damn exploration take over. She approached me, revealed her plans and asked me to make sure you stayed alive while she was gone. After all, she couldn't know if the mutineers were going to try and make use of the opportunity to take over your ship."

Llorrin remembered how Jeredan had guarded him while they were stuck in the mist, how it had already seemed back then like he knew something more.

Wheann seemed frozen, and Jeredan appeared to take delight in seeing his shock. "You… You…" the half-elf stammered.

"I wonder what Irewyth is going to do to you once she finds out you revealed her little secret," Llorrin said darkly. Somehow the idea of seeing Jeredan in pain suddenly felt really appealing.

Jeredan shrugged. "She promised to put in a good word with you in for me after she'd killed Chuth. She said she had you in her grasp and could easily convince you to make me captain if I helped her, but then of course, she got stabbed and I had to take matters into my own hands, which means I don't owe her anything. Besides, it's not like you would let this slip out, and there's not a whole lot she can do right now either," Jeredan said casually.

His confidence was aggravating. Llorrin contemplated punching him again, but then realized it was Wheann he should be concerned about. Despite the fact he had little to no sympathy for the half-elf's anger, he still found it very unfortunate to have lost a friend.

"Listen, I can tell every day on this ship is eating you up alive. You joined the fleet voluntarily so if you want, you can always leave again once we reach the mainland. There'll be a whole new continent for you to explore. No more small islands or boring coastlines. That's got to be worth something, right? I won't stop you from leaving," Llorrin said before he realized Irewyth was probably the only reason Wheann hadn't departed from the expeditionary fleet already.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Wheann said, a hardness to his eyes he hadn't witnessed before. Llorrin answered that look with a hardness he didn't know he possessed. Friend or not, Wheann was crossing the line.

"You're the one with the problem, you brought it up, and we both know it's not going to get settled overnight. As long as you're on this ship, you're going to answer to me and follow my orders. If you can't stand that, and it seems to be the case, I'd advise you to leave" he said, his own voice suddenly reminding him of captain Adane's.

"I wish I could leave already," Wheann said bitterly, looking past him.

"You can," Llorrin said, aware they were wasting time, and he already regretted having this conversation in front of Gronbag.

"You know what we orcs do when we're fighting over a woman? We fight, we don't throw pretty words at each other," the orc chimed in, oblivious to Jeredan's murderous glare.

"I wouldn't jeer too much about it," Llorrin said, turning towards the cage and taking a step towards it as Wheann hurried to leave. "It just put me in a bad mood."

Gronbag raised his hands defensively, but he simultaneously showed a toothy grin.

"Oh, should I be afraid now? Are you going to ask your big friend to beat me up this time?" he sniggered.

"He's not my friend," Llorrin said, shooting Jeredan a glare.

"I'm the best friend you have, you fool," Jeredan protested, oddly serious. "Good friends tell hard truths."

Llorrin's eyes lingered on Jeredan briefly. He already regretted bringing the warrior, and didn't feel like suffering through any more of his antics. Llorrin knew Jeredan well enough by now to tell the warrior was enjoying this much more than he was showing, and he couldn't stand it a moment longer.

"I thought you wanted to interrogate this orc," Llorrin said empathically.

Jeredan shrugged.

"I had to say something. You girls would've been moaning at each other for hours if I hadn't. Besides, we have more than enough time to spend with our prisoner," Jeredan said with an unsavory grin, cracking his knuckles loudly.

"_My_ prisoner," Llorrin corrected him, but Jeredan, fixed on Gronbag as he was, didn't seem to care much about that comment.

"Our prisoner," he tried.

"Mine," Llorrin said, turning to the cell.

"Yours and mine," Jeredan said with a nod.

Llorrin ignored him and studied Gronbag closely, trying to make up his mind about how to approach this interrogation, for Wheann and Jeredan had thrown him off almost entirely. This orc, while not as old as the warlock had been, seemed old enough to have fought in the First and Second wars. If he hadn't always belonged to the Warsong - something his tattoos seemed to indicate - he'd ravaged the Kingdom of Stormwind, conquered much of the Seven Kingdoms under Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer and finally witnessed the Horde's defeat at the hands of Sir Lothar and the Alliance. It was probable he'd escaped back to Draenor after the Horde's defeat and resisted the Alliance Expedition that had followed them to Draenor as well. He may have fought alongside the likes of Grom Hellscream, battling his way through the Dark Portal to escape Draenor and reach Azeroth again before Ner'zhul's magics tore the orc's home planet apart... only to be seized by the Alliance on the other side and be put into internment camps along with the rest of their brothers. Under the leadership of Warchief Thrall, he had thrown off his chains, defied his captors, seized human ships and sailed to Kalimdor. Gronbag been through all that, and he was still alive. Scarred, but alive.

_Compared to me, that's quite something. I may hate him, but I can't afford to underestimate him,_ Llorrin told himself.

"Alright, Gronbag," Llorrin began, purposely calling the orc by his name instead of just calling him 'orc', a courtesy Jeredan would never offer him. If Llorrin was going to play this game, he decided he'd better do it well. He figured in order to appear like 'the good guy' as opposed to Jeredan, he could show some actual interest in Gronbag's past. He hoped that would make him more talkative than cutting straight to the chase would. From what Llorrin had seen, the orc's ego seemed big enough to fall for that. He tried to find something to ask him about, something that the orc would like to speak about, yet something he'd be genuinely interested in as well. Llorrin wasn't exactly eager on hearing how many humans Gronbag had butchered or anything like that.

_The tattoos, of course,_ he told himself, paying some closer attention to them now. Gronbag carried a tattoo of a bleeding eye on his right arm and another on the flat of his hand, and two tattoos of the jagged skull of the Warsong clan on the opposite side. Scars and nicks ran over and through the eye tattoos, making them appear older than the Warsong tattoos, which looked clear and quite new.

"Were you always a Warsong orc? Those don't look like Warsong tattoos to me," Llorrin said, nodding towards the eyes. He tried not to show it, but he was glad to see Gronbag grin and apparently fall for it.

"Haven't you felt my strength? I belonged to the Bleeding Hollow clan, of course!" Gronbag boasted.

_That does explain a lot. The Bleeding Hollow clan was there when the Horde first invaded Azeroth, they escaped back to Draenor after the Second War and joined with the Warsong to fight for Ner'zhul. Their clan was split in two when some, but not all, escaped from Draenor when the Dark Portal was destroyed,_ Llorrin thought, his former suspicions now confirmed. This was no mere loudmouth of an orc, but indeed a veteran of countless battles who had been part of every major engagement the Horde had ever waged.

"The Bleeding Hollow clan... A clan named so because their chieftain was stupid enough to lose his eye. Not really something to boast about, but these are orcs," Jeredan said icily.

"Nice words from a man who boasts about the warriors he's killed by drawing pretty scars on his face," Gronbag grinned, much to Jeredan's frustration.

"I know the Bleeding Hollow clan, Jeredan. Kilrogg Deadeye isn't just well-known amongst orcs," Llorrin said.

"Known because the people of Stromgarde can't stop boasting about how 'their' Danath Trollbane slew him. Perhaps if your chieftain hadn't lost his eye, he could've seen the sword Danath chucked at his throat coming," Jeredan chuckled. "Kilrogg was a big name, but a name doesn't make a warrior. I've killed many less renown orcs far tougher than him, but you don't hear anyone boasting about that."

_You already boast too much about it yourself, you don't need anyone to do it for you,_ Llorrin thought.

A part of him wished Jeredan would shut up for a moment, but at least the warrior was playing his role well. Llorrin wasn't entirely sure if Jeredan was on to what he was doing or if it was just a coincidence, though. Jeredan's view on interrogations seemed far less… subtle than his own, he didn't necesarrily recognize what Llorrin was doing.

"He may yet live, you humans never found his body, did you?" Gronbag said while Llorrin was pondering on that.

"If everyone who got missing during a battle was alive, there'd be whole armies out there," Jeredan said, crossing his arms.

"What I really want to know is what a Bleeding Hollow orc is doing leading Warsong orcs," Llorrin said before the conversation derailed any further.

Gronbag seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting. _All according to plan,_ Llorrin thought, trying hard not to smile.

"My clan is not what it used to be. Part of us didn't make it off Draenor when Khadgar closed the Dark Portal, and though Warchief Thrall freed us from the internment camps, we didn't have the numbers to be a leading force in the Horde anymore, and are never committed to large engagements, and I grew sick of that. I wanted to stand on my own feet, that's why I joined with the Warsong clan. The new Warchief was easily convinced when I told him I'd fought alongisde Grom Hellscream," he boasted.

"You have a new warchief?" Llorrin asked. Gronbag made a face that showed he realized he'd given more information than he should have. He seemed to consider lying and grew quiet for a while, but then spoke anyway.

"Aye, Warchief Garrosh," he said, oddly serious all of a sudden. "Son to the great Grom Hellscream, but he is neither his father, nor Thrall. He is strong-willed, but he wasn't there to fight the demons at the Battle of Mount Hyal, and neither was he there when the demons forced us to fight our corrupted Warsong brothers. Warchief Thrall should have appointed someone who'd been through those battles, someone who had fought and bled knowing what was at stake for our people, someone who had witnessed the true threat to our people firsthand."

_True threat? Does he means the demons?_ Llorrin thought skeptically. Was this orc trying to blame his crimes on someone else, or was he simply trying to deceive him?

"What happened to Thrall? Is he dead?" Llorrin asked, not allowing himself to be confused. He didn't know much about this Thrall, but if he'd allowed his people to ally with humanity against the demons, there must have been more to him than to a common orc. In the end though, it was clear even Thrall had only used them for his own survival, Llorrin reasoned.

"No human, you're not that lucky," Gronbag once again laughed. "There is an elemental upheaval at hand. Some time ago a great storm ravaged the shores of Kalimdor and drowned countless shore dwellers, you must have noticed. Warchief Thrall has sailed out to the center of this storm, and left Garrosh in command."

_The storm that nearly wiped out the fleet,_ Llorrin realized. He'd always felt it couldn't have been natural. Why hadn't Elduin told him these things? Surely the druid must be wiser than this orc, and should've known about it too. _No, I can't think about Elduin, not now,_ Llorrin thought, realizing how miserable he must've looked. He quickly let his sadness turn into anger.

"Fine then. You have a new warchief. You're quite a warrior to have survived that much, but despite all that you are still my prisoner. You're going to tell me all about your new warchief, and the holdings your Horde has established on Kalimdor. I suggest you be cooperative, otherwise it'll be him you're talking to, not me," Llorrin told Gronbag with a nudge in Jeredan's direction, amazed the warrior had managed to keep his mouth shut through all that.

Gronbag merely grinned.

"Trying to play the nice guy with me and scare me with him, eh? That's not going to work. Some snotnosed brat isn't going to trick me. I know how interrogations work."

_Really? He's already on to me?_ Llorrin thought, unable to hide his disappointment. If only Irewyth had been better, he could've brought her. She had a ways with people, and perhaps with orcs, too. _What would she say?_ Llorrin thought frantically.

"You're used to being interrogated? I bet that means this isn't the first time you got captured then?" he said with the same innocent but nevertheless clever expression Irewyth would show someone if she was trying to get under someone's skin.

"It's not," Jeredan said before the orc could react.

Llorrin raised an eyebrow. "You… know each other?" He'd already suspected something like that when Gronbag hade made the comment on Jeredan's facial markings, but he had Gronbag to know Jeredan by reputation, not personally. From what he could gather, most orcs who met Jeredan were no longer around.

"Might be," Gronbag yawned, stretching himself out as well as his bonds allowed. "I've 'known' many humans in my day."

Jeredan took a step towards the cell. "Don't you remember me?" he asked, punching the iron bars with a force that would have broken a lesser man's knuckles.

"I do remember you, I just don't give a rat's ass about you. You weren't very memorable," Gronbag said, leaning back against the wall. His jagged fangs seemed longer when he grinned.

"Bullshit. We've fought three times-" Jeredan said, his hand cutting through the air.

"And I'm not dead, so I'm not impressed," the orc captain shrugged.

"I'm not dead either, should I be impressed with you?" Jeredan asked as he stepped closer, his armour scraping the iron bars softly.

"You'll both be dead if I don't get me some answers," Llorrin growled. He knew Jeredan had continued hunting orcs even when they had been regarded as pacified, but it still came as a surprise to him some orcs had actually survived the encounter.

_So this orc managed to slip through Jeredan's fingers several times. Small wonder he never told me anything about him,_ Llorrin thought, wondering what else he didn't know about him. He quickly came to the conclusion there were probably a lot of things he didn't want to know.

Regardless, Llorrin didn't have time to sit through this merry reunion. He quickly reached inside his pocket and pulled out the simple map he'd drawn. He handed the parchment to Gronbag through the bars, mindful not to stick his arm too close to the orc.

"Here, take it. It's a map of Kalimdor. I want you to indicate where you orcs have settlements, mines, farmland, where you've built roads, anything you know about the mainland," he demanded, mildly surprised that Gronbag actually took it without ripping it apart.

Only when Gronbag had unfolded the map did Llorrin also shove a quill and ink his way. Asking any simple grunt would've probably been useless, but as a senior captain and an orc of high status, Gronbag was supposed to have a sound knowledge of cartography and the military operations and settlements of the orcs.

"Why should we trust anything he puts down on that map?" Jeredan growled, his fingers tapping his arms impatiently.

_He's more clever than he looks, but only sometimes,_ Llorrin thought, once again regretting he'd brought Jeredan. He turned away from the cell and pulled Jeredan away from it a little before he answered him.

"I won't trust him, in fact, if he's smart he'll try to give us false information that will lure us into a trap," Llorrin sighed, keeping his voice down. He wondered if he should ask Jeredan to leave, "but if we can capture another orc, and he tells us the same…"

"Then why didn't you pick some more out of the water, like I told you to?!" Jeredan fumed.

"It'd have to be one who doesn't know we already have another prisoner that we're going to ask the same questions. Any second orc we would've picked out of the water would've figured out we were going to test both their answers against one another, and might not have spoken a word even to save his own skin," Llorrin said, getting seriously irritated with Jeredan. The crusader may very well have botched the entire plan if Gronbag had overheard them, though it all depended on whether or not the orc believed they could actually capture another of his kind. At any rate, Gronbag was drawing _something_ on the map. Perhaps he'd finally realized his survival would depend a great deal on his cooperation…

"Did _this_ take you seven years?" Gronbag snickered as he held the map in his hands, blinking his eyes rapidly, as if he couldn't believe it.

Llorrin's jaw clenched. Though Gronbag probably didn't expect it, of all the comments he'd had already made, this one stung the most. _Seven years…_

"We suffered delays," Llorrin said in a small voice.

"Aye, we suffered delays as well when we first sailed here. Ran into some filthy sea witch… and some of your pals, too. Heh, they didn't make it. We used stolen boats, of course, _human_ boats. No wonder most of them got wrecked on our way here, I suppose I should feel sorry for you humans, who have to go to sea on such floating coffins. Still didn't take us seven years though" Gronbag chuckled, folding the map painstakingly slowly. He extended the finished map slowly.

"It's _your_ boats that got sunk just now," Llorrin retorted, snapping the map from Gronbag's hand as soon as it came in reach and opening it quickly to see what Gronbag had drawn on it. He froze. The figure Gronbag had drawn all over his parchment was unmistakably meant to represent him, and he was attached to some sort of torture device that had stretched his limbs and had almost finished ripping off his forearms and his lower legs. The grinning orc that was operating the machine was obviously Gronbag himself. The scars and tattoos on his arms were unmistakeable, and Gronbag had paid close attention to him. Jeredan walked up to look over Llorrin's shoulder. The warrior rubbed his chin slowly as he let his eyes stray over the drawing.

"Ah. Inspiration," he said, not fazed in the least.

"What do you make of this?" Llorrin, who had the eerie feeling Jeredan was enjoying the drawing a little too much asked as he pointed to a severed head with on the bottom right corner of the map. Jeredan's grin turned to a scowl when he recognized his own face despite the missing eye Gronbag had drawn so carefully.

"You're quite the artist," Llorrin admitted with a scowl as he crumpled up the paper and threw it at Gronbag's face, sighing when it bounced off the bars. He let Gronbag's laughter wash over him, pretending not to hear it.

Jeredan crossed his arms. "This is the least fun I've had interoggating someone, ever. Even watching the men drink each other under the table would have been better. I could have earned myself some money by betting on Bors by now," he complained.

"Celebrating, eh? You think you've won a great victory, sinking two ships, but you have no idea how powerful the Horde has become. You're sailing to your doom," Gronbag said.

"You're starting to sound like a warlock I knew briefly, before I killed him, that is," Llorrin retorted, once again thinking Irewyth would've been proud if she'd seen him now.

"I've killed more of your kind than I can count, orc. You've killed none of me. A few thousand more won't matter," Jeredan shrugged.

"Unless you two want to continue having a pissing contest, perhaps you can finally tell us something worthwhile," Llorrin interrupted. "You orcs seem to have had a good time since you came to Kalimdor, there must be something you wish to share."

"Well, first off, your admiral is dead," Gronbag said.

Llorrin pretended he was shocked.

"Bullshit."

"He is dead. He tried to attack Durotar, but was driven back. He may have succeeded if not for Rexxar, that old scoundrel. Rexxar gathered the tauren, troll and ogre tribes against him right on time."

_Only right on time? How typical,_ Llorrin thought, frustrated. He didn't know what a tauren was, but the trolls and the ogres had left the Horde a long time ago. That they had joined forces with the orcs again was bad news indeed.

"What chance do you think you have?" Gronbag inquired.

"Jaina Proudmoore sailed to Kalimdor before we did. We'll rally her remaining forces against you… Wherever they are," Llorrin said, remembering he should pretend not to know anything about Theramore.

"Hah! Does all your hope rest on a frail little girl? Let me tell you something about Jaina. She _assisted_ Thrall in attacking the frail island city of Theramore. The girl told him where to find a goblin shipyard, which delivered us the ships we needed to break through the blockade Proudmoore had formed around the isle. I was at the warchief's side before the assault, I saw their encounter with my own eyes. She didn't mind that Thrall was going to kill her father. All she asked was for her own men to be spared once the battle was done."

This was new to Llorrin. Shocking, too, if it was true.

"Why would she do that?" he asked skeptically. He felt Daelin would be turning in his grave if he knew one of his soldiers was even considering believing this slander, but then again, he remembered Elduin and Captain Adane's reactions to Jaina, so he couldn't quite discard the thought the orc might be speaking the truth…

"Thrall and Jaina forged the first alliance between orcs and humans together and brought us together against the Burning Legion, the demons who crushed your human kingdoms and corrupted my own kind… for a time."

"Don't fool yourself, orc. If you didn't want to be 'corrupted', you would have died resisting the demons. You're still corrupted, and you'll never change," Jeredan said.

"Thrall and Jaina saw it differently. You could say those two are behind all the cooperations that happened between the Horde and the Alliance, so when Jaina's old man showed up and started ruining the alliance they had forged… well you can see for yourself that didn't go down so well with either of them. Despite their efforts, Horde and Alliance are once again at each other's necks. Warchief Garrosh believes it's our fate to fight."

"That's one thing we can agree on," Jeredan said grimly.

"Garrosh would welcome some more Kul Tiras pigs to slaughter. You'll never meet him though. Our juggernaughts patrol the seas, and going by the wit you two have shown, you won't make it very far. Perhaps I should speak to this Irewyth instead. She sounds like she has more brains than the two of you combined."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, orc," Llorrin almost laughed, actually toying with the idea of actually leaving Gronbag an hour in the presence of Irewyth.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked Jeredan as he suddenly saw the crusader advancing on the cell. The orc straightened up as Jeredan entered the cell.

"Jeredan!" Llorrin warned him, reaching for his cutlass, but surprisingly enough Jeredan didn't try to kill Gronbag. Instead he reached for the runed bracers on the orc captain's forearms, taking them off.

"Jeredan, what are you doing?" Llorrin asked, frowning. Jeredan looked like a walking steel mountain already and wasn't in any need for more armour, and aside from his scars he carried no victory trophies with him that Llorrin knew about.

"I'm taking these, and why not? To the victor go the spoils. Half the things these orcs have are stolen anyway. They have no right to them. And he soon won't have any more use for them," Jeredan said with a dark look in Gronbag's direction. The orc's lips pulled back over his teeth slowly.

"I didn't think you liked that fancy stuff," Llorrin remarked as Jeredan made his way out of the cell.

"They're not for me," Jeredan said gruffly, throwing the bracers into Llorrin's arms, who caught them. The cold metal tingled underneath his fingertips. Llorrin gave his companion a questioning look, and Jeredan responded with a harsh push.

"Look at yourself. Frail, flimsy, and almost unarmoured," Jeredan said with another push, gesturing disdainfully. "You're bound to die if you don't get some serious equipment soon, because we'll be meeting more of his kind soon, and then you'd better be prepared."

Sighing, Llorrin tried putting on the bracers. He never expected them to fit, but to his surprise, they did, like they already seemed smaller than when he had just caught them. The runic symbols lighted up slowly, and Llorrin could hear the faintest humming, though he wasn't sure if it wasn't just his imagination.

"Enchanted, as I thought. There's a reason this bastard survived that storm," Jeredan said, crossing his arms as he gazed down on them.

"You'll give those back, human," Gronbag threatened icily. "You'll give those back, or I'll curse every day you wear them, from this day to your last… which will be soon, if you hold on to them."

"Oh, the chained up orc is going to call down a curse. I'm shaking in my boots," Llorrin said, turning away from Gronbag. He was done interrogating this orc for now. Tomorrow would be another day. When Jeredan didn't move to follow Llorrin stopped to address him before he left.

"Jeredan, if I wake up tomorrow to find our friend here with a slashed throat, I'll put your corpse beside his, understood? Make sure he's guarded well, and keep your hands off of him. If he's right, there'll soon be plenty of other orcs for you to kill."

As he made his way out of the brigg Llorrin couldn't help but feel he had botched this interrogation quite badly. The orc had given them very little useful information, and what he _had_ told them, he had no doubt revealed for his own reasons. Llorrin shook his head. Blaming it all on Wheann or Jeredan seemed too easy. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the messdeck where his crew was still celebrating 'their' victory over the orcs. _They should all be crafting little statuettes of Irewyth instead of getting drunk,_ Llorrin thought.

The cheer he was greeted with as he stepped inside was softer than the last, because by now fewer men were sober enough to notice his entry. As Jeredan had predicted, Bors had indeed drunk a couple of men under the table already, and the provisions master didn't look like he was quitting any time soon. The sight brought a smirk to Llorrin's face, but at the same time he wondered if he could really afford to have his crew become so vulnerable, when the next attack was potentially mere hours away. Darkness would soon fall though, so they were unlikely to be noticed by any enemies. Nevertheless, it would pay to have a good lookout on watch duty. Llorrin looked to see if he could find Wheann, but distinctive though he was, the half-elf was nowhere to be seen.

Before he'd even shut the door properly behind him he was surrounded by a couple of marines, mostly men belonging to Jeredan's crew. His heart skipped a beat, but then all of the men started firing questions at him simultaneously and he realized he had nothing to be afraid of.

"What did he say, captain?"

"Is Daelin really dead?"

"Have the orcs conquered the mainland yet?"

_Seriously Llorrin, get a grip,_ he told himself. _If they're going to murder you, they won't do so in plain sight._

Llorrin raised his hands in a diplomatic gesture. The men had all remained sober waiting from the news from the mainland they were hoping to get from him, and he admired them for it. He didn't want to lie to them, but he didn't really want to admit how little information he'd been able to get from Gronbag either.

"I hate to admit it, but I never held much doubt Admiral Proudmoore has fallen, and this orc, too, has confirmed it. However, we'll only truly know the truth once we reach Tiragarde," he said, not willing to crush their spirits.

"I don't want to trouble you men too much, not now," he said truthfully, "and nor do I want to spread any lies the orc may have told me around me before I've been able to think about what he said for a while first."

That didn't seem to be the answer the men had been waiting for, but they appeared to be able to accept his reasons nevertheless. Llorrin considered telling these men they were all on guard duty, but that would seem like a horribly unfair way to reward them for their dedication to the cause. Perhaps he was worrying just a little bit too much about another attack happening so soon. There hadn't been a sign of any Naga since Elduin had plunged lifelessly into the sea, and what were the odds more than two orc warships would sail so close to one another? Llorrin wished the men good night and prepared to leave, deciding he had to take at least some measures to make sure everyone wouldn't be so hungover tomorrow they'd get themselves killed doing daily chores.

As he pushed through the room a voice suddenly stopped him.

"Hey captain, leaving already?" Bors shouted with a voice that thundered over the rest of the ruckus. He raised a large pint into the air. Three men lay unconscious on the table around him, their faces planted on the table and their empty pints scattered to all sides. "How about a little drinking contest? I've ran out of contestors, surely the _captain_ will make a more formidable adversary than these wretched sea dogs."

"Formidable? Pah, I hear he drinks like an elf! Hah!" the raw voice of one of Jeredan's sailors shouted.

Llorrin felt himself growing uncomfortable. Not only would Bors completely destroy him in a drinking contest, it also seemed the men had learned about his little drunken meeting with Adane. _I should probably strangle Irewyth the next time I see her_, Llorrin thought, but he considered Wheann could have just as well told them the story.

"Another time, Bors. One of us has to stay sober," he said, feeling and hearing the disappointment reverbate through the room. He realized he was wasting a perfect opportunity to raise his popularity a little among the crew, but he really couldn't afford getting drunk now. He had too much to worry about to just drink it all away, and he didn't want to bring the men's spirits down with his sullen mood. Then he had a sudden idea.

"I can't stay, but I'll bet five gold pieces on whoever challenges you next," he said, reaching into his purse and placing some coins on the table. "I'll give my profits to whichever man manages to best you," he proclaimed in a loud voice. He figured this ought to do the trick to get Bors some more contestants. Five gold pieces was a lot of money, and if it wasn't their own money they risked losing, they had no reason not to give it a shot.

Bors grinned. "Five gold pieces? You'll make a rich man of me yet, cap'n. You and my friend here," he said, slapping himself on the belly with pride.

"Maybe I'll even teach you some manners one day," Llorrin said with a wink, relieved to hear the room burst into laughter. Llorrin left as the men pretty much fell over each other trying to reach Bors' table in order to challenge him, their courage fueled by greed.

When he'd finally made his way back to the upper deck Llorrin took a deep, refreshing breath, and only when the cold night air touched his skin did he notice he'd been sweating. Llorrin was greeted by a starlit sky, though he was aware his peers couldn't quite see the stars yet at this time of day. He'd always had the best night eyes in his crew, as was apparent from how the nearest guard, whom Llorrin could see clearly, didn't react to his presence. Due to the orcish threat, Llorrin had ordered to dim all the lights so their ships couldn't get spotted from afar.

"A sad day to be on the night shift," the man sighed when Llorrin got close enough for him to notice him. When he saw who he was talking to he quickly saluted.

"Indeed. The party isn't gonna last though," Llorrin said, speaking casually in hopes of putting the man at ease, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. "At midnight, I want you and your team to break it up," he said nevertheless. "Some celebrating is good, but too much is too much. I want everyone in shape tomorrow. No more delays."

"Sir," the man said, saluting as Llorrin made his way to his captain's cabin. He felt bad for the men who were on the night shift, and not simply because they were missing out on the celebrations. As hot as the day had been, the night was cold, and there was a chilling wind that howled softly in between the ships, like a ghost was flying from mast to mast or diving down to lurk in the space between the two frigates.

It wasn't much warmer in his cabin, so Llorrin only took off his boots, bracers and vest before going to bed. He was restless, staring at the ceiling with one arm resting on his forehead as he slowly let his unspent anger flow from his body, the cold air cooling off his warm skin. He thought about Gronbag, what he had said, and how he should approach the next interrogation. Perhaps a few weeks on water and bread would make the orc more willing to share his secrets, but it somehow seemed unlikely the veteran orc would break so easily.

He opened his eyes to find the room had become much darker than he remembered, realizing he must have fallen asleep. He could hear rain rattling off the top of his cabin and he could hear it hitting into the deck as well, almost too clearly. A cold draught spilled into the room and Llorrin realized with a shock that the door to his cabin was wide open. He turned and discovered a huge silhouette filling up the doorframe, small clouds emitting from the intruders' nostrils and mouth as he breathed coarsely. The smell of blood reached Llorrin, and he caught a glimpse of sharp fangs and a knife being raised as the dark silhouette leaped forward at him.

There was neither enough time nor space to roll or jump out of the way, so Llorrin braced himself, catching a meaty arm in his left hand as the knife came down on him and raising his right arm to block off the avalanche of muscle that came crashing down on him. As the massive weight pushed down on him Llorrin's knees were pushed against his chest and he could feel his thighs practically ripping under the pressure, but somehow he found the strength to fight back even as the intruder tried using his full weight against him. Hot, sickly breath washed over his face as the intruder exhaled, growling at him silently. He felt blood tickling down his leg and realized it must've been the intruders'. Llorrin scarcely had the time to wonder how an orc had gotten aboard, for the orc's free hand suddenly reached over to cover his mouth. The purpose was a little bit more brutal than simply trying to stop him from calling for help, for Llorrin could feel the orc's thumb begin to press into his throat, threatening to crush it. He coughed uselessly against the orc's gnarly hand, twisting his face left and right to try and escape out from under the orc's deadly grip.

He tried to roll to the left and back to the right in quick succession, hoping that slamming the orc into the wall repeatedly would not only weaken him, but also cause enough noise to attract some of the other crewmen, but the orc soon readjusted his arm to restrain his legs and stop, limiting his mobility. The knife inched closer and closer to his face until Llorrin could feel it's sharp blade pressing through his eyebrow, the skin right below his eye and even his eyelid. He opened his eye frantically, feeling the sharp blade cutting through his eyelid. Half the world turned red, and he was almost out of air.

"Not worth the bullets, eh?" the orc breathed close to his face.

His mind screamed a wordless message, and Llorrin instinctively reacted to it, reaching for his pocket, his fingers closing around the knife Jeredan had given him. Without hesitation he pulled it free, jamming it upwards into the orc's flesh time and again. The intruders' mouth opened in a soundless cry, and the warm blood that gushed down onto his thighs felt like a sweet kiss.

"Damn right," Llorrin growled, moving the knife violently from side to side, carving a wicked pattern into the orc's chest. The orc roared and Llorrin could feel his grip on his throat loosening. He jammed the knife deeper and was finally able to kick the orc off of him, knocking him backwards onto his desk. As he was getting up from the bed he saw the orc clutching his side, blood running out from it. He realized he must have hit the orc in exactly that spot, but there was no way a kick could have caused such a wound. He remembered the blood that had tickled down his leg already at the beginning of the fight and realized the orc must have already been wounded, his kick must have simply ripped the skin open further. Aside from blood, the intruder had the smell of sea water about him, and his skin looked wrinkled and pale, like it'd been wet for a long time. The orc slipped down from the desk, crashing onto his knees, his breath no more than a whisper. Llorrin nearly stumbled and his legs felt like they were going to give in under his weight. Somehow he remained on his feet, long enough to crash down on the orc and bury his knife down into the side of his neck, so deeply he could no longer see the blade. What little light was left in the orc's eyes soon faded, but with their faces close together as they were, Llorrin managed to distinguish a _grin_, like the orc had died happily.

Confused, Llorrin looked down, his bloody left eye pressed shut, to discover the orc's knife jammed deeply into his side. When he cried out in surprise, only a muffled, garbled sound came out, and blood came dripping from his mouth. _Carekon, I need to get to Carekon_, he thought as the room began to spin around him. He pushed himself up on the desk with one hand and stumbled towards the still open door. Looking outside, through the rain, he half expected to find the corpses of the men of the night shift lying scattered across the deck, but alive or dead, none of the men were anywhere to be seen. Apart from the sound of the rain, the deck was eerily quiet.

His body felt broken as he stumbled outside, hurting in places he'd never realized one could feel so much pain before. _Where is everyone?_ he thought. When he looked up towards the moon, which was full, he realized what was wrong. The moon had reached its zenith, it was midnight, the exact time he'd told the men of the night shift to go down to the messroom and break up the party.

_Just my luck_, he thought, snickering almost madly at his misfortune, something he soon regretted when shocks of pain shot through his side. With a groan he pulled out the dagger and watched it slip from his fingers. He stumbled forward, one hand pressed to his wound. The rain made him feel like he was freezing, and due to the noise it was making in the darkness, half-blind and dazed as he was, he felt like he'd lost all sense of direction, dwelling through the darkness in what felt like hours, until he found himself out of the rain, stumbling towards a door.

_Please be awake, please…_ he thought as he crashed against the door, falling to his knees as he practically crawled into the room. His head hung down and he didn't feel like he was able to lift it, so he couldn't tell if he'd even made it to the right room. He heard a woman cry out and saw an old man hastily rising from a chair from the corner of his eye as the floor came heading up towards him.

"That knife almost caused permanent damage, but we should be able to save the eye," Carekon said, stopping Llorrin's hand as he raised it up to feel the silk stitches in his eyelid.

"You have to mind not to touch it. It's very dangerous to get an infection there now. If the wound gets infected, you may lose the eye. In fact…" Carekon said as he went to search for something.

"Why don't you just heal it? You healed the stab wound without a problem," Llorrin complained, feeling the scars right below and above his left eye instead. His skin felt weird where the knife had split his eyebrow.

"The eye is a very delicate organ. If I had blasted holy light straight into it, it might have blinded you forever. You'll have to wear this until it heals," Carekon said, presenting him with a small object. Even as he took the cotton object in his hand Llorrin wasn't quite sure what it was. Then he flipped it around and saw the strap attached to it.

"An eyepatch?" he groused. Irewyth's chuckling rubbed some salt in the wound.

"It will only be temporarily, and it's nothing to be ashamed of," Carekon said. "Even Maxwell Tyrosus wears an eyepatch."

Llorrin frowned. "Who?"

"He's a paladin I was grateful enough to meet during my time at the Temple of Light in Stratholme. He had a solid grasp on the workings of the Holy Light himself, but alas, he couldn't use it to save his eye either."

Holding back a sigh, Llorrin put the eyepatch on. Looking about the room, he could tell this was going to take some time getting used to. He could practically feel Irewyth's eyes piercing into his back. She lay on the bed behind him, nudging his back gently with her foot in a clear attempt to attract his attention, no doubt to get a peek at what he looked like with the eyepatch on. Instead of turning around Llorrin hastily got up. He'd slept through the night and some of the morning to recover, and according to Carekon, Jeredan was commanding the crew in his absence and had already taken steps to finding out more about the assassin.

_All the more reason to get out of here as fast as possible,_ Llorrin thought, heading towards the door.

Irewyth curled up on her side and propped one arm below her head, finally getting a proper look at his face as he turned and headed for the door.

"It looks good on you," she said.

"A compliment? For almost losing my eye? Remind me to let them lop off an arm the next time I get into a fight," Llorrin said, reaching for the door knob, but Irewyth wasn't about to let him go yet.

"Don't be like that," she pouted, ignoring Llorrin's one-eyed glare. "You've been awfully rude to me already, just bursting into my room all bloodied up like that in the middle of the night. There's ladies who would get upset for less."

"This isn't your room."

Carekon stepped forward. If he was getting fed up with his younger companions' banter, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Jeredan told me he wanted to see you urgently. You should probably go to him as soon as possible," the chaplain urged him on. Only then did Llorrin really notice how tired Carekon looked.

_Poor guy, he has to put up with Irewyth's banter all day. I suppose he can at least count himself lucky she's barely ever awake..._ Llorrin thought as he nodded absently, making a mental note of relieving Carekon of this burden soon. With a final look at Irewyth, he quickly headed through the door. He was faced with Jeredan almost immediately. The warrior's black-armoured shape nearly seemed to fill up the entire corridor. Jeredan saw the eye patch, but surprisingly didn't comment on it. Instead he raised a knife to Llorrin's face.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" Llorrin asked as he jumped backwards.

"You killed an orc, you deserve a marking. Come here," Jeredan said, twisting the knife from side to side.

"Keep that insane bullshit to yourself!" Llorrin said, raising his hands protectively. Jeredan could claim women found his markings attractive as much as he wanted, Llorrin had entirely different ideas about what women would think about a guy who promoted self-mutilation. When Jeredan snickered and lowered the knife Llorrin realized he'd only been joking, but he still didn't appreciate it.

"It's good to see you," the warrior said, tucking the knife away like nothing had happened. "The old man didn't want to let me near you until you'd woken up. I told him someone who could survive a close encounter with a Warsong orc wouldn't die from losing a few hours of sleep, but he wouldn't listen."

"Carekon told me you wanted to speak to me, what have you been up to?" Llorrin asked. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"Cleaning up your mess. Did you notice the corpse?" Jeredan growled, apparently aggravated that Llorrin didn't take it for granted that he'd have to speak to him. Then he got right to the point. "We have another traitor on board."

Llorrin frowned.

"What makes you say that?!"

"Someone helped that orc get aboard. It would appear he'd clung onto the ship after Irewyth's little storm had wrecked their juggernaughts. We found a rope hanging down the back of the ship. Obviously someone was helping him. The dagger he tried to assassinate you with wasn't his either. Bors has confirmed that both items were missing from the storage room, and he had only last checked it yesterday morning."

That pretty much erased all doubt the orc could've gotten it from anywhere else. Bors might like his ale just a little too much, but he was about as punctual a provisions' master as any captain could wish for. He fell silent as he pondered on this matter, wondering if he'd be able to take this, another traitor on board. He only snapped out of it when Jeredan nudged him painfully against the shoulder.

"Come. I said I was cleaning up your mess, and I will. I've assembled all the men. Both crews. We're going to find out who the traitor is. We're going to get to the bottom of this," the warrior said, turning and heading towards the upper deck without a question.

Llorrin looked down at the runed bracers on his arms as he followed Jeredan, trailing the runic symbols with his finger. "I almost got killed hours after putting these on. Perhaps I should've been more wary of that curse Gronbag spoke about," he said. To him, it simply defied all logic that there were still men on board who wanted him gone.

"Almost dead is still alive. Don't be so superstitious. That's what gets you killed," Jeredan warned him.

Llorrin frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'll kill you myself if you keep believing anything that comes out of an orc's filthy mouth. How many orcish curses do you think I have floating around me, eh? Do I look dead to you?"

"Not very," Llorrin had to admit, feeling quite bad about being outwitted by Jeredan of all people. "I didn't sink those ships though, it's Irewyth who should-"

"Part of being a leader is being prepared to take credit for things you don't deserve to get any credit for," Jeredan cut him off. "Keep them."

"You're always so cynical," Llorrin lightly accused him. Jeredan slowed down his pace.

"Can't deny that, but why shouldn't I be? You can thank my old commander, that fool Gaelos, for that. Used to take the credit for everything our company ever achieved, told us if he'd been in charge, the Horde would have never crushed us at the Swamps of Sorrow. Some fools even believed him, thought him a great warrior. In truth, he was a fool who got many of my brothers killed because of his incompetence, and the only reason he survived so many battles was because I was always guarding his back, but since he was a highborn lord no one ever even considered how incompetent he was, and no one ever praised me for guarding his back. It went on like that for a while. Well, until I 'lost sight' of him during a pinch and an orc buried an axe in his skull. That was near the end of the First War."

"What happened to your company?" Llorrin asked, oddly reminded of how Jeredan had bailed out on him during the Naga attack even though he'd been ordered to guard his back, but also intrigued. It was uncommon for Jeredan to open up like this.

"We went… separate ways."

_You mean you deserted,_ Llorrin thought, but he thought it wiser to not speak it out loud, though he had a feeling Jeredan knew he was on to him.

"It's not like you to run from a fight," he smirked.

"I split only right after I'd witnessed the razing of Stormwind, the war was _over_ by that point. I didn't 'run from a fight' any more than any of the other survivors did, I simply didn't stick with them," Jeredan bit at him. "You may get all shaky when you think about what the undead did to your fleet, well, put that out of your mind, it doesn't compare to what the orcs did to Stormwind. I'd fought and bled like no other man before me but nevertheless I got to see the city burn right before my eyes. That's when I realized I couldn't rely on any puffed up lords to tell _me_ what to do. _I_ did not fail, it was our leaders who failed _us_! To them we're nothing but fodder, subjects who are only there to give their lives to help contribute to _their_greatness. Why should I follow them, and see all my efforts go to waste? When I saw, and heard all those citizens being slaughtered, I realized no one should rely on others for their safety. The only ones who survive, are those who can stand their own ground. Other people are just a liability. That's why after the war was done, I went my own way."

"I suppose that's when you started hunting orcs on your own?" Llorrin said in a small voice. He'd never realized how much the sack of Stormwind had affected Jeredan. If Kul Tiras were razed to the ground, he could only imagine what it would do to _him_. Perhaps the Scourge had already reached the island nation. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Mostly, though I wasn't always on my own. There were others like me, men who had nothing left but their vengeance. During the Second War, I served this lord and that captain now and then as a mercenary, but never longer than it was required for me to gather some new companions or equipment when I had to. I always made sure to leave service before some idiot could send me to my death."

"Considering how much you hate the Horde, I'm surprised you didn't join Khadgar's expedition to Draenor," Llorrin said.

"Why should I have? Those fools may have closed the Dark Portal, but they got themselves killed all the same. The orcs may have been kept away from me in those damned internment camps, but there were still many ogres and trolls on Azeroth to hunt. They had to pay for their crimes, and I always knew the orcs would bust out of those internment camps sooner or later."

Llorrin nodded. The internment camps had been one big mistake. As lifeless and downtrodden as the orcish warriors may have been after the demonic and Warlock energies had burned out in their veins, an orc was still an orc. It shouldn't have taken a genius to see the orcs would one day cast off their chains and rise up again, but the Alliance had still allowed it to happen. Still, the thought that Jeredan would have gladly slaughtered all of the captive orcs personally even when they were almost completely defenseless somehow didn't sit right with him.

"So I'm to take it you hurried back as soon as you heard the orcs were busting out of their camps?"

"Yes, my mates and I knew that was going to happen, so we kept our eyes and our ears open. I never helped any of the garrisons directly though. Orcs shouldn't be faced on the field. You need to pick them off one by one, hit them when they least expect it, in your own time, without a score of weaklings around you that are sure to fall and cause more trouble than they're worth. Don't look at me like that. What do you fight for, if not vengeance? In order to get your vengeance, you need to stay alive. Never forget that," Jeredan told him, a bright flicker lighting up his dark eyes briefly.

"When will it stop? For you, I mean?" Llorrin asked, painfully aware he was treading the same path as Jeredan.

"Never," Jeredan stated grimly, and without hesitation. "I lost more than just my commander in those ruins, Llorrin. You think you're better than me, but we're really quite alike. You always look at me as if I disgust you, but you admire your precious admiral. _He_ never forgave the Horde either, and that's exactly why I chose to join him. What makes him so different from me?"

That left Llorrin speechless, even though he wanted to say something. Before he could come up with an answer they reached the upper deck, where his crew awaited him. As he looked over his assembled crew, all tidily lined up, Llorrin made a mental note to make sure he wouldn't let Jeredan get the last word the next time.

He stopped as he reached the middle of the row, crossing his hands behind his back as he looked from one man to the next. The atmosphere was so tense every ship in the orcish navy might have just as well been bearing down on them. His body still hurt all over, but he couldn't let it show. He had to wear the eyepatch and his scars like a victory mark, he told himself, and show the crew, and especially whoever of them had betrayed him, that this wanton treason hadn't weakened his resolve. Llorrin thought carefully on who his main suspects should be.

The problem he had was that it could be anyone, even Jeredan. Despite his hatred for orcs, the unscrupulous warrior would benefit the most from his death. He already commanded one ship and a crew, the second would be within his reach if Llorrin were to die. Jeredan was also awfully quick about trying to prove someone else guilty. Their interests aligned, of course, but Jeredan had to realize his little speech about how hard he found it to accept leadership he'd given less than a minute ago did little to make him sound trustworthy.

_Jeredan was with me the entire time during the interrogation though. Then again, it couldn't have been too hard to sneak into the provisions room yesterday even though he had less time. The provisions room…_ Llorrin thought, his eyes straying to Bors, who was pale and sweaty, and Llorrin reckoned it wasn't because of a hangover. As the provisions' master, he had very easy access to ropes and knives, and no one would ever suspect a thing if he took some. Llorrin took a step in Bors' general direction. He felt a weird sense of satisfaction which he knew he shouldn't be feeling as he saw the fear on the provisions master's face and realized the power he wielded.

_Concentrate, you have to do the right thing, not be even more like Jeredan than he wants you to,_ Llorrin thought, aware of the warrior's presence. The man followed close behind him like an angry guard dog that was ready to snap out at any second, a large shadow that stood over him and threatened to swallow him.

From the corner of his eye he saw someone who stood out among the rest of the sailors, but Llorrin made sure not to look at him directly. Wheann was an obvious suspect, perhaps too obvious? He had a reason to hate him, but would he go as far as to try and murder him for sleeping with Irewyth? The half-elf didn't look well; his black hair was straggly and his pale eyes were restless and somewhat puffy from a lack of sleep. It certainly spoke against him that he hadn't attended the festivities and his whereabouts were therefore unknown. For all Llorrin knew Gronbag might have even been putting ideas into his head during the time Wheann was guarding him. Llorrin would have to ask him where he'd been, but he didn't wish to do so openly. If he was innocent, distrusting him openly could destroy any chance of Wheann ever making up with him again.

Llorrin could think of no way to get to the bottom of this, at least not right now, but he felt he had to say something.

"Jeredan has made you all aware of the attempt on my life, and the fact we have another traitor on board. _I'm_ here to tell you that this changes nothing," Llorrin proclaimed. "The threat has been dealt with, and whoever the traitor is, he's apparently someone who was too scared to wield the knife himself, and I'm not afraid of someone like that."

He contemplated reminding them of the rotting corpses that had adorned the ship's mast, but considering Carekon had more or less forgiven those men, it didn't seem like something he could afford to do. That was not the kind of captain he wanted to be, even though sometimes it felt like it would be a lot easier if he was.

"Nevertheless, I want you all to remain vigilant. If you've seen something suspicious, I want you to come tell me personally, but at the same time I do not want you to lose trust in one another. We've already come this far, and I am certain that together, we _will_ reach Tiragarde, and then all of you will see that whoever doubted my word, was wrong. To the traitor I say this: my death would change little, because the truth cannot be concealed forever. Our destiny lies in Kalimdor, where the Horde awaits us, and I hate to keep them waiting!" he said, drawing his cutlass, the tip pointed at the sky. The pale morning sun reflected weakly off his newly acquired bracers. Cursed or not, the pieces of armour were signs of his victory. He felt silly at first when none of his men followed his example, but then one of the marines in the front row drew his sword. Others, urgent to prove their loyalty, it seemed, quickly followed his example. The drawing of swords spreading through the ranks like a wave as more and more men followed the example. Llorrin was soon looking over a gleaming sea of steel. His eyes scanned over his crew carefully, trying to see if anyone perhaps looked half-hearted, or doubtful of their cause. A couple of men looked hungover from last night, but that was all he managed to discern. Llorrin turned the tip of his sword down and shoved it back into the scabbard in one fluid motion. This time it didn't take the crew so long to follow his example.

"Now, all of you go back to your duties. I promise you this traitor will be caught _very_ soon," he said, realizing he had no real way to be sure he'd be able to keep that promise. He kept an eye on where Wheann went after he'd dismissed the men. When the half-elf saw him too, they both averted their eyes.

Llorrin really hoped Wheann wasn't the traitor. The fear for captain Adane's wrath if it turned out Elduin had lied and Llorrin's judgement had been faulty had sparked the first mutiny, but that fear would soon be proven wrong. They would reach Tiragarde and hear the truth from the local garrison, and then anyone who had wanted Llorrin dead for supposedly disobeying orders would realize they'd been wrong to doubt him. If Wheann wanted him dead, however, it was because of his feelings for Irewyth, and reaching Tiragarde wouldn't change a thing about that.

A sudden thought hit him. Perhaps if he could make Gronbag tell the crew about the battle of Theramore and how Daelin had fallen it could already convince the men Elduin hadn't been lying. Of course, it was a risk to let Gronbag speak in front of the entire crew, because Llorrin really didn't want him to tell them anything about Jaina's betrayal, and it was unlikely the orc would leave that part out simply because Llorrin asked him nicely. Still, it was worth a shot... Llorrin would love to be able to sleep and walk around the ship without constantly having to fear someone was going to stab him. Then again getting Gronbag to speak could also all be a huge waste of effort if the traitor was indeed Wheann. A lot seemed to depend on that. As Llorrin turned to head back to the lower deck Jeredan left to tend to his own ship, giving him a disappointed look. Eryck soon appeared at his side.

"Eryck," Llorrin said, somewhat relieved to have his bodyguard next to him. "You'll have to lose your habit of constantly disappearing on me. From now on, you're going to stick close to me until we've found this traitor."

On his way back to Carekon's cabin Llorrin couldn't help but wonder whether or not he should be wary of Irewyth as well. The hydromancess had already proven to be more than just devious, and lately he'd been standing up to her a little more. It seemed very drastic for her to try and get rid of him entirely simply because she could no longer manipulate him as easily as before, but he knew how ambitious she was, and knew how ambitions could often come at the expense of others. In fact, Llorrin would be the first to admit that.

He didn't have any doubt Irewyth was capable of pulling off this ploy if she wanted too. For all he knew she could even be working through others. Carekon was charged with keeping an eye on Irewyth all day long, but even he could not stay awake forever, and Irewyth had already proven to be able to sneak around at night. _Damnit, can't I trust anyone?_ Llorrin thought. An iron fist clenched tight around his heart whenever he considered the possibility. He'd even rather have the traitor be Wheann than her, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his judgement be clouded by his own desires.

Upon reaching the door to Carekon's cabin he stopped for a second. He couldn't let Irewyth see how troubled she was. She had the uncanny ability to make him feel like she always knew what he was thinking. He knew that was impossible, but he still couldn't shake the thought. Llorrin closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he pushed the door open.

"Back already?" Irewyth asked as she rolled over on the bed to look at him. She smiled deviously. "You look perfectly fine to me, I don't think I'm going to let you share my bed again."

"Strange, I hear it's not like you to turn people down," Eryck smirked as he shuffled into the room, making his way past Llorrin. Irewyth's eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks flushed red for a second, but then she regained her composure, pulling an eyebrow up at Eryck. Her glare was a clear warning that Llorrin knew Eryck would be wise to heed.

Llorrin shrugged uncomfortably. "I was cold and wet and had lost a lot of blood, so she kept me warm during the night, that's all there is to it," he said irritably. No doubt Irewyth thought he owed her something now, and if Eryck kept making remarks like that it wouldn't put her in a better mood, either, and she was likely to become even more needy.

"Being the captain sure has a lot of advantages," Eryck said, his lips curling into a clever smile.

"I wanted to ask you if you had any idea who's trying to get me killed," Llorrin told Carekon and Irewyth, ignoring Eryck's 'witty' comment.

Llorrin was glad to see they both appeared to know what he was talking about even though they'd been stuck inside this chamber for so long. Jeredan must have told Carekon more than Carekon had let on at first.

"Well, you can scrap me off your list," Irewyth said, stretching her limbs with the laziness of an overfed cat. "I haven't been out of bed since you put me here to recover."

"In case you suspect Wheann, he was here for most of the night," Carekon said. "Whoever did it must have noticed the orc before, but stayed quiet about it. The most likely time the traitor could have snuck into the storeroom and taken the knife and the rope without anyone noticing was while the others were celebrating, and already well drunk. That's the only time Bors should have been away from the store room."

Llorrin nodded slowly, trying to imagine himself following the path Carekon was laying out before him. "Makes sense," he said, the cue for Carekon to continue. Instead Irewyth spoke up.

"Whoever tied the rope to the back of the ship and dropped a knife down should have attracted quite a bit of attention if he did it during the day, right? Not to mention someone should've seen the rope if it was left hanging there for hours?" she said. "It must have been done during the night. Someone must have snuck through the guards, or waited for them to leave the deck before making his move."

"No, only the guards on the night shift knew that was going to happen at that time," Llorrin said immediately. "We followed the regular order, it would be too coincidental that one of them happened to be the traitor as well, but it's not impossible that someone managed to sneak past them. We'd put out all the lights, they barely saw me, and can you blame them? Their orders were to keep an eye out for everything _outside_ the ship, not on it…" Llorrin thought aloud. He could ask his crew if anyone had been behaving strangely or disappeared during the festivities, but he was almost certain he'd get a hundred different stories from everyone. No, the men's memories couldn't really be relied on to make his judgement.

"If someone was wily enough to be sneaking around on board, why didn't he just murder you himself?" Eryck asked all of a sudden. Irewyth rolled her eyes ostentatiously.

"Isn't it obvious? He was afraid he could fail, and with good reason," Llorrin said. He made a mental note that Eryck probably wasn't going to be of much use figuring out this mystery.

"I don't think it was Wheann, he simply didn't have enough time to do all that," Carekon said, a sense of urgency to his voice. "He only left my cabin shortly before you stumbled in here. Hence why we were both still awake when you arrived."

Llorrin frowned, wondering why Carekon thought he had to protect Wheann so badly. Something else they'd revealed was nagging at the back of his mind though. "You said Wheann was here with you. Why?"

Irewyth shrugged and gave Eryck a warning glance before he could open his mouth. "He just wanted to talk. He had nowhere else to go," she said in a way Llorrin felt was meant to make him feel guilty.

The whole thing was giving him a headache. It was difficult to make up his mind when he had to be careful of what he said to who, and everything they said could be lies or wrongful interpretations.

"How'd your orc interrogation go?" Irewyth asked when he failed to say anything else, the corners of her mouth curling up ever so slightly. She snuggled the back of her head against the pillow lazily.

"I didn't learn much, and what I did learn from him was disconcerting," Llorrin said with a troubled look, unwilling to give too much away, especially with Eryck present.

"That's really no wonder. You have to gain his respect first," Irewyth said.

"Respect?" Llorrin repeated doubtfully.

"Yes. An orc won't wrong anyone they respect. They may still try to kill you or cross you, but will never do so unfairly."

Eryck laughed derisively. "You're actually saying those bastards have honour?"

"Yes, in fact that is very much what I am saying," Irewyth said, getting up from the bed.

Eryck's smile died away under her stare. "How do _you_ know so much about orcs?"

Irewyth shrugged in a way that made clear she wasn't going to tell.

"Jeredan would have something to say about that," Llorrin said uneasily.

Irewyth put a hand on her hip, giving him a taxing look. "I think you should be less concerned about what Jeredan wants you to think for a change, and pay more attention to what I'm telling you."

Llorrin remembered the strength of the orc, the way he'd grinned even though he was dying, because he'd died thinking he'd fulfilled his mission.

"Suppose you're right," he said, "how am I going to get _him_ to respect me?"

Irewyth shrugged. "I'll leave that one to you."

Though Irewyth didn't give him anything to work with, Llorrin thought he had an idea. As he left the cabin he turned to Eryck.

"What did you to with the body?"

"The body?"

"The corpse of the orc that tried to kill me," Llorrin clarified with an aggravated sigh. Eryck wasn't too bad a fighter, but he was sometimes as thick as a brick.

"Oh. We wanted to throw him into the sea, but Carekon wanted to study the body, so we put him away safely. Cleaned up your cabin while we were at it."

"Carekon hasn't cut up the body or anything already, right?"

"No, he's been too busy taking care of you… and Irewyth," Eryck said with a chuckle.

Llorrin breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Eryck's silly joke. The guy was getting himself into a world of trouble thinking Irewyth would appreciate it if he continued like that, but Llorrin wasn't going to stop him from digging his own grave.

"Go guard the body. Even if Jeredan comes up to you and wants to cut him to pieces for some reason, no one is to touch him, okay?"

"Wasn't I supposed to stay at your side?" Eryck, who seemed at a loss on why Llorrin was so concerned over a corpse, asked.

"Not right now." Llorrin didn't really want to take anyone near Gronbag if he could avoid it. What he'd told them about Jaina had to stay secret for now, or they might not even agree going to Theramore.

Arriving in the brigg, Llorrin was surprised to see Jeredan guarding the cell instead of the expected guards. As he approached the cell he was relieved to see Gronbag was still alive and well. He was less happy to see Gronbag been gagged, obviously much to his displeasure. Gronbag's eyes went to the scars and the eyepatch as soon as he caught wind of him, and some of his anger made way for amusement.

"What's the meaning of this?" Llorrin asked Jeredan.

"I said I was cleaning up your mess, didn't I?" Jeredan said coldly.

"Why'd you have him gagged?" Llorrin said. He had no patience for Jeredan's games.

"I didn't want him putting ideas into anyone's heads. Imagine him telling the guards what he said about Jaina. If they hear, they might not feel so good about going to Tiragarde and meeting her men, considering Jaina delivered her father and his men to the orcs and all that."

Llorrin thought he understood the implied threat. He once again regretted having taken Jeredan to the interrogation.

"Okay, Jeredan what do you want?" he said.

"Don't confront Irewyth with what I told you about her."

That wasn't the answer he had expected. "Why? Are you afraid of her?" Llorrin smirked.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Jeredan growled, crossing his arms, "but that woman is something else. She'll hit you in a way you'll never see coming."

"You already knew that before you chose to tell me of her scheming. Hell, you knew it better than I did."

"I thought I did," Jeredan grumbled.

_So he believes she's the one who sent the orc at me, as well, or he wants me to think it's her,_ Llorrin thought.

"You really like working behind my back, don't you," Llorrin scolded him. "It's almost as if you'd like to take my place."

This time it was Jeredan who caught the hint. He chuckled unpleasantly.

"If I wanted to kill you, kid, I would have simply crushed your skull on the bars of Gronbag's prison here while you were trying to interrogate him, and afterwards told everyone Gronbag did it. It'd be his word against mine," he said with a grin that suggested he'd actually considered doing that.

_He's serious,_ Llorrin realized.

"Listen, I need to talk to Gronbag. Alone," Llorrin said. "You just go clean up some more of my 'mess', or something." Jeredan hesitated, but then seemed to recall how little fun the first interrogation had been, and left, albeit slowly.

Llorrin watched Jeredan's back until he was out of sight. The warrior didn't close the door properly, so Llorrin had to go and do it in his stead, mumbling curses. His heartbeat rose as he returned to the cell, but he didn't hesitate to enter. Llorrin quickly undid the gag, feeling his heartbeat pounding against his ears. The orc was too thoroughly shackled to pose a threat to him, but it wasn't getting mauled Llorrin was worried over.

"I'll have to apologize for that. He likes to work behind my back," Llorrin said, mentally scolding himself for admitting it right after he was done speaking. If he said his men didn't respect him, why should Gronbag?

As expected, Gronbag wasn't too impressed. "Lost an eye somewhere?" he said with a crooked grin.

"Almost. I got close to becoming the next chieftain to the Bleeding Hollow clan there for a minute," Llorrin said, evoking a snicker from the orc. Llorrin crouched down in front of Gronbag and looked him in the eyes.

"One of your warriors did this," he said, tracing the scar below his eye with his finger before tapping the eyepatch. "He clung to the ship after the storm and climbed aboard yesterday night while the deck was empty. He burst into my cabin and tried to kill me, but I fought him off."

"And you're trying to brag to me about that? The poor bastard must have been half-dead and frozen already," Gronbag said sceptically.

"No. Actually, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to give him a proper burial."

Llorrin let those words sink in for a while. Gronbag looked at him suspiciously, like he was expecting Llorrin to pull his leg.

"You mean you haven't thrown him into the sea yet?" Gronbag asked.

"No, but since he was one of your men, I thought you'd want to speak some words, and give him to the sea yourself. Of course, if you don't want to…" Llorrin said, slowly rising to his feet.

"Wait. I'll do it. I just thought you'd be too afraid to let me out of this cell."

"Well, it's not like you have a lot of places you can go to, and I don't suppose you're planning to sail this ship all by your own either," Llorrin shrugged matter-of-factly.

Gronbag realized Llorrin wasn't mocking him and grinned, but only briefly, like he still wasn't sure if he should trust the young captain before him. Llorrin got up and moved out of the cell. He didn't put the gag back.

"We'll get those chains off of you too, for the occasion. I trust you're not going to botch your comrade's funeral just to kill a few of us. Be ready in a few hours."

"I will be," Gronbag promised with a nod as Llorrin turned away.

He realized he couldn't leave Gronbag unguarded, so he sent for Flynt to guard the orcish captain. It was a lowly task for someone who should be considered his right hand man, but Flynt carried more authority than the others, at least in name. He hoped it'd be enough to hold off Jeredan if he returned and tried to do something to the orc. Llorrin had to make some preparations, and it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if Jeredan ruined his entire plan right when he wasn't watching. This funeral had to continue properly if Llorrin wanted to have any chance of persuading Gronbag to back up the warlock's and Elduin's story without giving away too much. _And then, let's hope what Irewyth said about orcs and honour is true_, Llorrin thought, involuntarily thinking about the warlock.

They had cleaned the corpse and hidden his wounds as well as they could. The orc' skin was still wet and pale and already discoloured around his eyes, but at least it he wasn't bleeding so heavily anymore. He lay on a table that would be lifted to allow his body to slide over the side of the ship and into the water. It was very rudimentary, but it was the best they could do. As Carekon had pointed out to him when they had buried the mutineers, this was a frigate, not the Cathedral of Light.

Llorrin looked about the deck nervously as he waited for Flynt and the four marines he'd sent to help him to bring Gronbag aboard. The forced silence on board did little to calm his nerves. He hadn't gone as far as to ask his men to attend the orcish assassin's funeral, but he'd at least asked for them to be quiet. He'd begun to fear he might be losing his men's respect by trying to gain Gronbag's, but it was already too late to turn back. Carekon had ensured him that if he acted nobly, his men would come to admire him for it and in time, his deeds would rub off on them and in time even become known to his enemies. Llorrin wasn't really sure why he should care what his enemies thought about him, but he'd neglected asking.

Jeredan of course, had been against granting Gronbag this privilege. Only after Llorrin had agreed to putting sharpshooters in strategic positions in case Gronbag did try something had the crusader agreed to not boycott the burial, but Jeredan still clearly wasn't happy about it. Irewyth seemed to take great delight in that notion. She'd finally gotten out of bed, and had been smiling mysteriously ever since she'd moved up to the upper deck. Her blinding smile had only grown every time Jeredan had made one of his frustrated comments. She was standing opposite from Llorrin, on the other side of the body, with Carekon at her side. Eryck was nowhere to be seen, but this time Llorrin wasn't ungrateful for it. The young marine's crass comments were the last thing he needed right now.

His heart stopped for a second when Gronbag appeared on the deck, completely free of his shackles. Only when he saw the four heavily armed marines and Flynt emerging from behind him did Llorrin stop holding his breath. Gronbag's escort stayed behind as the orc slowly walked up to the corpse, stopping by his side. He looked at his dead comrade's face for a while before he spoke.

"Zel'guk," he grunted softly. There was a hint of sadness to his grin. "I should've known he'd be the last survivor. Nothing could kill that bastard."

Llorrin wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, so he kept his mouth shut. Gronbag muttered unclearly and rather quietly, but Llorrin didn't really pay attention to his words anyway, thinking of it as a matter personal to the orc captain. After a while his curiosity won it over his respect and he started listening in on Gronbag anyway. What he noticed immediately was that Gronbag's voice as different somehow, but hadn't lost any of its power despite it.

"You fought like a true orc until the end, and your death is nothing to be ashamed of. You were slain by a worthy opponent. I would have arranged for a proper pyremaster to take care of your funeral, or performed what rites I could myself, my brother, but fate wishes it otherwise. Better to cast you into the sea than subject you to whatever these humans could have in store for you. You were at home at sea in life, I trust you will be in death as well. Farewell now, brother," Gronbag said.

Gronbag's muscles bulged as he lifted the table, letting Zel'guk's body slide into the water. The splash he made sent some seawater over the side of the deck which hit Llorrin in the face and eye, the one that wasn't covered by the eye patch. He merely blinked a couple of times to get rid of the irritating feeling, unwilling to take his eyes off of Gronbag as long as he was holding a piece of furniture big and heavy enough to smash his skull with. Instead of killing him, Gronbag dropped down the table on the deck with a hollow thud and turned away. For some reason Llorrin hadn't thought it'd be over this quick. Gronbag and Llorrin shared a look of understanding, and the orc returned to his cell, escorted by Flynt and the same four marines from before. They'd only just gone belowdecks when Llorrin heard an unexpected call from the crow's nest.

_"Land in sight!"_


End file.
